with a reverence unimpaired

Delah's denial is a fearsome thing, but Amalia does not fear rebuke. All she fears is for the fate of the whale, the falling star so radiant, so lost, cast out of the sky by a crippling storm. Great wings beating in time with her heart, the owl is a bullet outlined by lightning, single-minded in her focus, ardent in her need. She can hear the song of the Fae below her, their music an echo of the great beast above. Beautiful and mournful, it urges her on, and despite the burn in her muscles she pushes higher and higher into the sky. She is fast, but the whale is faster, a comet plummeting with the aid of gravity rather than against it. Large and bright and fiery and untouchable, it casts a light nearly impossible to see through. For a moment Amalia hesitates, not sure if she ought to proceed, if she is correct. But there is something in the cosmic fire, movement, life- the owl catches sight of an eye, and her heart aches with renewed determination as she nears the babe. Extending her wings, Amalia lets herself turn down into a dive, gliding alongside the glowing creature. Spiraling around it, she tries to guide it toward the waiting fae, ready to swoop in should it seem to have lost control of trajectory or be in any imminent danger, regardless of the risk its starfire may pose to her feather and flesh. Amalia Her eyes, they know too much. She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.