Amalia
the shield of safrin
Much has changed in Amalia's absence. But for now, she has to prioritize.
Whatever happened to Evie, however Wessex became Queen (again?), wherever the rest of the plague has spread, the Shield has a duty to her people and her home. And though word that the Ascended are weakened by the illness does fill her with some amount of satisfaction, she will not begrudge them the chance at a cure. She spent too much time in the prison of the disease to cast it upon anyone, no matter their history.
And so she arrives at the meeting with water in hand and the intention to help, and immediately spots a very uncharacteristically unsteady Wessex. Concern furrows her brows tightly; her instinct is to go to the woman, to try and coax her to take a sip. She hesitates, though, the memory of attempting to get Loren to drink fresh on her mind. If the fight he put up was any sort of precursor, she knows she doesn't have a chance against the wraith.
So the Shield chooses a different route. One that, while perhaps absurd, seems safer in the end. "Sorry in advance to anyone who isn't ill," she calls into the gathering, before leaping up into the air, wings unfurled as she ascends to the upper limits of the temple...
...and begins to pour the water of Frey's Breath onto those below.
Whatever happened to Evie, however Wessex became Queen (again?), wherever the rest of the plague has spread, the Shield has a duty to her people and her home. And though word that the Ascended are weakened by the illness does fill her with some amount of satisfaction, she will not begrudge them the chance at a cure. She spent too much time in the prison of the disease to cast it upon anyone, no matter their history.
And so she arrives at the meeting with water in hand and the intention to help, and immediately spots a very uncharacteristically unsteady Wessex. Concern furrows her brows tightly; her instinct is to go to the woman, to try and coax her to take a sip. She hesitates, though, the memory of attempting to get Loren to drink fresh on her mind. If the fight he put up was any sort of precursor, she knows she doesn't have a chance against the wraith.
So the Shield chooses a different route. One that, while perhaps absurd, seems safer in the end. "Sorry in advance to anyone who isn't ill," she calls into the gathering, before leaping up into the air, wings unfurled as she ascends to the upper limits of the temple...
...and begins to pour the water of Frey's Breath onto those below.
make peace with your broken pieces
