Amalia
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
"It is wonderful," Amalia agrees, tilting her as if in thought, dark eyes string into the woods. She seems to be considering something, and eventually comes to some conclusion, turning back to Melita with a dreamy, vibrant smile. "Are you an Accepted, or Attuned? You could learn to fly. I did." Lifting her limbs in demonstration she lets the owl live through her, feathers rippling across her arms like a secret on display, a wave of them splaying between raised fingers before retreating back to her palms. Then she laughs, still awed by her own ability, the touch of gods upon her soul.
There is comfort in silence without solitude, in working with another and not feeling a need to act. Braiding in the ends of her basket, Amalia glances back at Melita, a shy blush creeping across her cheeks at the girl's sunny statement and laugh. "Maybe I do." Narrow shoulders roll in a thoughtful shrug as she considers the veracity of this fact, the people who have somehow gathered around her, creating a shield against the lonely world. Outlanders and Naturals, family and friends, lovers- with such strange ease they have filled the space, taken up room in her hollow heart.
Tilting her dark gaze toward the girl, Amalia wonders where she has come from, what stories live behind those fiery eyes. "What about you?" she questions softly, fondly, an invitation to divulge. "Do you have people here?" For Melita is an Outlander - it is easy for Amalia to pick them out - and the difficulty of finding community is not lost upon the gilded baker, who has lived here all her life.
There is comfort in silence without solitude, in working with another and not feeling a need to act. Braiding in the ends of her basket, Amalia glances back at Melita, a shy blush creeping across her cheeks at the girl's sunny statement and laugh. "Maybe I do." Narrow shoulders roll in a thoughtful shrug as she considers the veracity of this fact, the people who have somehow gathered around her, creating a shield against the lonely world. Outlanders and Naturals, family and friends, lovers- with such strange ease they have filled the space, taken up room in her hollow heart.
Tilting her dark gaze toward the girl, Amalia wonders where she has come from, what stories live behind those fiery eyes. "What about you?" she questions softly, fondly, an invitation to divulge. "Do you have people here?" For Melita is an Outlander - it is easy for Amalia to pick them out - and the difficulty of finding community is not lost upon the gilded baker, who has lived here all her life.
