Amalia
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
Amalia did not mean to frighten. Indeed, she cannot think herself frightening, so it is easy to forget that the rising fur and rumbling growl may cause alarm. Settling back to human form, she brushes off the girl's apology with a shake of her gilded head, smiling awkward at the second apology, wildly and painfully self-aware. Please stop, the woman wants to plead. You are too young to be afraid of bakers in the sun.
She does not say that, is spared by having to say anything further by Jyoti's relentless jovility. The calf sings merrily under Malita's gaze, clearly delighted by the attention. It makes Amalia soften and smile to see them interact, the starlit whale and the fiery youth, a mismatch pair united in boldness. It is hard for the girl to feel afraid, concerned, when the starwhale starts her dance. Even in these uncertain woods she is eased and comforted by the song.
Amalia nods her silent agreement, a smile pulling at her lips. Curiosity is as good a reason as any the baker gas ever had: the only reason, much of the time, a compulsion besting constant in her veins. "It is beautiful in the woods," the girl says softly, though there is an edge of warning in her tone. "But dangerous, too." She thinks of wings and rustling branches, of almond eyes staring from behind the trees.
Surprise ripples freely in her expression when Melita names her purpose here. "Me too! Though I am not doing so well. Care to join me?" She gestures to her place on the tree, the broad root large enough to hold them both. It is something of a climb, at least six feet, but somehow she doubts Melita would mind.
She does not say that, is spared by having to say anything further by Jyoti's relentless jovility. The calf sings merrily under Malita's gaze, clearly delighted by the attention. It makes Amalia soften and smile to see them interact, the starlit whale and the fiery youth, a mismatch pair united in boldness. It is hard for the girl to feel afraid, concerned, when the starwhale starts her dance. Even in these uncertain woods she is eased and comforted by the song.
Amalia nods her silent agreement, a smile pulling at her lips. Curiosity is as good a reason as any the baker gas ever had: the only reason, much of the time, a compulsion besting constant in her veins. "It is beautiful in the woods," the girl says softly, though there is an edge of warning in her tone. "But dangerous, too." She thinks of wings and rustling branches, of almond eyes staring from behind the trees.
Surprise ripples freely in her expression when Melita names her purpose here. "Me too! Though I am not doing so well. Care to join me?" She gestures to her place on the tree, the broad root large enough to hold them both. It is something of a climb, at least six feet, but somehow she doubts Melita would mind.
