[SE] The Candle and the Mirror

YOU SAID THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON IT ROSE TOO SOON AND WE'RE DOING WHAT WE SHOULD Amalia crinkles her nose in mock dismay at Rory's pithy response, not quite willing to think of what his hands might have been full of. There is teasing and then there is actually speaking of such things, and for a girl of twenty-two who recently had time travel magic sex with a god, Amalia remains remarkably innocent, educated yet inexperienced. Besides, the two times has tried were... Well. The memory of Frey stills her a moment, sending a shiver of something indiscernible down the girl's spine. her eyes glaze in distracted thought, anxiety making a hungry return. Distinctly Amalia recalls the strange dischordence of lust and malcontent, the feelings of failure and sadness offset by pleasure, desire. She hasn't spoken of that day, has tried not to think about it, because she does not know what she should think and.. And this is not the time. Swallowing, the girl returns to the present, wicked grin stretching back across her face as she catches another exchanged glance between the men. "So when's the wedding?" Amalia drawls, giggling as Jigano's hand brushes across her face. Fluttering away once more, she turns back to face the wheel, her expression going somber as the candles flicker and dance. "The wheel represents the sun." Leaning forward, Amalia examines a candle that sits in the center, firelight flickering across the sharp lines of her face. "Every year, we light candles for the people who were lost during Long Night, as well as to celebrate the life we continue to lead. It's meant to remind us that the world keeps turning, that loss and darkness are balanced by rebirth and light, just as Rae would want it." The baker thinks of the ghosts they led to Ludo, souls lost to the endless night but rescued now, returned to Mort. Blinking back sudden tears, Amalia turns back to her companions, smiling bittersweetly, a low chuckle leaving her lips at Jigano's teasing joke. "Lucky for you, I was taught to be prepared." Well, taught is a strong word- Amalia has been driven by her anxiety to ever over-prepare, but never mind that now. Reaching into a bag at her side, the girl extracts one red candle of slightly questionable age. "Look! An extra!" Extending it sweetly toward the men, she abruptly recants and snatches it back, the twinkle of mischief again in her eye. "But which of you should I give it to, hmm? A precious commodity such as this? Make me an offer, gentlemen." She looks between them, mock innocence on her face, the curl of a smirk pulling at her lip. They don't need to know that there are four more where those came from. Not yet, anyway. a m a l i a You said it's life that moves too much We're losing touch But I'm not losing you