A M A L I A
Silently the baker watches as the staff begins to change, antlers running like rivers back among the wood. Her breath catches in abject wonder as Remi spins his skills, dark eyes wide and fascinated, awed by the display of power, of finesse. The artistry is seamless: glowing veins of crimson ignite beneath the brown, smooth to Amalia's hesitant touch, warm and pleasant and perfectly right. She cannot say how much time passes, but she is delighted to spend it thus, watching the gift unfold before her, an unexpected offering which squeezes at her heart.
At last he comes to, pale eyes blinking, and though he cannot see it the baker's smile is radiant, vibrant in the summer day. "It's amazing!" Remi may be slow to praise himself, but Amalia is quick to admire her friends, all the confidence she does not feel in herself bestowed with ardor upon those she loves. "You truly are a man of many skills." She throws her arms around him then, a sudden and heartfelt hug of gratitude, appreciation for his kindness too great for simple words.
Pulling back, Amalia beams, running her hands over the staff. 'And now?' he says, as if this is not enough, as if he has not already given her a surprisingly beautiful gift. It is not avarice which makes her pursue, but curiosity now, a sense of wonder and fascination for the depth of his prowess. "What else can you do?" she asks him earnestly, bubbly with possibility, tilting her head like a child. "Could you make it spark? Or grow blades? Or maybe it can shoot rainbows!" She laughs, delighted, before a true idea strikes. "Or what about... could you make it so it can heal people?" Amalia remembers the night of the Spark Perch, when Rory had fallen and burnt and bled. She had been useless to help him, unable to heal. To have an item with those properties, well...
She sucks in a hopeful breath, her dark eyes trained anxiously on Remi.
