[SE] for a moment I forget to worry

A m a l i a Amalia's knuckles whiten slightly as she continues to silently work, listening to Emmett talk about the Outlanders with a rising ire in her breast. It is wrong to be angry, she tries to reason. Most of them are not to blame. She has befriended so many, come to see them as family, as loved ones, as friends. The Naturals are as much to blame as the Outlanders: they should have been better, they should have prevented it, they should have done anything... but hadn't they tried? Hadn't they spoken while nobody listened, cried out to the stubborn, heedless mass, begged them to wait and reconsider while their world fell around their ears? Amalia sighs and shakes her head, trying to push the thoughts away. "I hope so, too," the girl agrees, coming back to stand near Emmett, rubbing the back of her neck. Sighing again, she leans back over, her elbows on the countertop, her chin inside her hands. She looks troubled, thoughtful, and after a moment of silence raises her eyes back to the boy. "Can I ask you something?" Chewing gently at her lips, Amalia tries to frame her question as color rises in her cheeks. "How do you do it? Being with an Outlander? I... that is, there's, um, someone, and we..." She flushes further, wholly incapable to verbalize the thing she and Deimos share. "I worry it will be a problem," the girl admits, staring fixedly at the counter, tracing the grain with a fingernail. "Somewhere along the line. Though I guess it doesn't matter now, not to them anyway, but..." And again Amalia trails off, the unsaid things hanging in the air. They are still them. We are still us. How do you manage to close that space? She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine