Amalia
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
The throne she chooses to sit upon is tucked among the roots, wide enough to give her shelter, high enough to give a view. No small amount of climbing was required to reach her perch, but with feline features and balance (if not grace) she is able to crest one towering limb, depositing her wares in the a beautiful space, carved perfectly for her. For a brief time Jyoti sits alongside her, watching with interest as Amalia works. Soon, however, the calf grows bored, leaving their haven to further explore, always in earshot and eyesight of the girl.
Some progress has been made by the time another appears, the bottom of a basket beginning to form beneath Amalia's skillful hands. It is far from perfect: the weave is wide, the shape somewhat flat, but the baker doubts that precision is needed for a basket to catch the sun. Jyoti sees them first, the fire-haired youth and her animate gourd stopping in awe of the towering tree. Her companion's spike in interest alerts Amalia, who raises her head like a frightened deer, fear running rivulets across her skin. The starwhale does not know to be wary of the Fae, but Amalia remembers keenly net and knife, her fight against the pit and claws upon her throat. She drops her work and rises to her knees, claws appearing on fingernails, cream fur sprouting from narrow shoulders, a leopard's ears upon her head.
Oh, but she knows them-! Amalia relaxes noticeably, her intent stare easing into a cautious smile as she looks sheepishly down upon the child. "Not to worry," the baker replies. "You caught me by surprise." Many things have, since LongNight, since the pit- but Amalia does not think about that, does not look down that dark path. Instead she traces Jyoti's trail and the calf responds to Melita's interest, ever delighted to receive attention, singing and spinning and swimming a ring around curious youth.
Settling back down, Amalia smiles and tilts her head. "What brings you into the woods?" The sunlit baker looks up, trying to see any companion, someone to watch Melita's back. "Did you see any Fae?" she adds, slightly concerned, knowing that the winged sprites are likely watching as they speak.
Some progress has been made by the time another appears, the bottom of a basket beginning to form beneath Amalia's skillful hands. It is far from perfect: the weave is wide, the shape somewhat flat, but the baker doubts that precision is needed for a basket to catch the sun. Jyoti sees them first, the fire-haired youth and her animate gourd stopping in awe of the towering tree. Her companion's spike in interest alerts Amalia, who raises her head like a frightened deer, fear running rivulets across her skin. The starwhale does not know to be wary of the Fae, but Amalia remembers keenly net and knife, her fight against the pit and claws upon her throat. She drops her work and rises to her knees, claws appearing on fingernails, cream fur sprouting from narrow shoulders, a leopard's ears upon her head.
Oh, but she knows them-! Amalia relaxes noticeably, her intent stare easing into a cautious smile as she looks sheepishly down upon the child. "Not to worry," the baker replies. "You caught me by surprise." Many things have, since LongNight, since the pit- but Amalia does not think about that, does not look down that dark path. Instead she traces Jyoti's trail and the calf responds to Melita's interest, ever delighted to receive attention, singing and spinning and swimming a ring around curious youth.
Settling back down, Amalia smiles and tilts her head. "What brings you into the woods?" The sunlit baker looks up, trying to see any companion, someone to watch Melita's back. "Did you see any Fae?" she adds, slightly concerned, knowing that the winged sprites are likely watching as they speak.
