In this moment, two of Amalia's primary characteristics are locked in a battle for dominance. On the one hand is her piety: the starlit baker is loyal to her Gods, ardent and unshakable in her reverence, her faith. She would never doubt their wisdom, for to her, they are the world, the things that gave birth to everything, and thus they must be wise.
On the other hand, she is desperately curious, eager, ever, to know all things. Questions ignite and spark on her tongue, dancing like lightning, begging to be released. But to do so would be to lend credence to the ravings of the Voice, and Amalia remembers Safrin's displeasure, Frey's disdain, the darkness of the blight.
Luckily, Ronin makes the choice for her. She does not notice the change that comes over him until he speaks again, asking her (but which of them?) to stop, to move on, to end this back and forth. Swallowing hard, the girl stands down, suddenly aware of her companion's discomfort, guilty at not having seen it at first. "We'll leave," she says to the false goddess, to her friend. "We did not come here to fight with you. Though... If you truly did not start the blight, do you at least know how to stop it?"
