Amalia
only lonely hid the morning from the stars
✩
As the evening wanes and day threatens to rise, Amalia stands at Deimos' side, her hand closed gently inside his. Her feet are sore from dancing; her throat hurts from a hundred songs; but the girl is happy, blissfully so, awash in the beauty of a guileless world. Jyoti rests on the tall man's shoulder, happy to nest among dark locks, and together they are something close to a family, and she is close to home.
Sighing contentedly, Amalia lets her head fall toward him, wrapping herself against his embrace. Tonight she cares not who can see them, who might whisper and judge and jeer. He is so handsome, she so plain; she is so awkward, he so calm- it does not matter, not tonight, when she has him and they have the world, and happiness hums silver in her veins. When at last she draws away she does not drop his hand, but keeps it laced among her fingers, pulling him along with a quiet, "Come."
Hoping he will acquiesce the baker leads him on, gliding among the blankets like a sunbeam lost in the dark. When she reaches the one she wants she stops, smiling down at the man who sits on it, her cheeks flushed with hopeful friendliness. "May we join you, Ronin?" Amalia asks, ready to kneel if he should acquiesce, a piece of soft bread already in her hand for Aoife to chew.
Sighing contentedly, Amalia lets her head fall toward him, wrapping herself against his embrace. Tonight she cares not who can see them, who might whisper and judge and jeer. He is so handsome, she so plain; she is so awkward, he so calm- it does not matter, not tonight, when she has him and they have the world, and happiness hums silver in her veins. When at last she draws away she does not drop his hand, but keeps it laced among her fingers, pulling him along with a quiet, "Come."
Hoping he will acquiesce the baker leads him on, gliding among the blankets like a sunbeam lost in the dark. When she reaches the one she wants she stops, smiling down at the man who sits on it, her cheeks flushed with hopeful friendliness. "May we join you, Ronin?" Amalia asks, ready to kneel if he should acquiesce, a piece of soft bread already in her hand for Aoife to chew.
