Amalia
"I'm not sure Delah will want to help," the girl replies wryly, thinking of the ornery fae. "But she showed me how to spot the blight, and once you see it... well, it's easy enough to find."
Amalia had been more than eager to join Phoebe on this journey, though she still chafes at the idea of it having to be sanctioned. Still, she says nothing in response to the midwife's comment about new rules, a tight frown the only sign of her clear displeasure, her fury with this recent turn of events. Jyoti's presence goes far to calm her, the starwhale humming happily, pleased to return to the woods. Her staff is clutched in her right hand, more for light than any protection; a small pack hangs upon her back, with food and water and gloves and a small glass vial for holding whatever they might collect. Delah had warned her not to touch the blight, that doing so would kill, and Amalia has absolute trust in the warchief's knowledge of the woods.
There is another reason why she agreed to this trip, more awkward and personal, and far more terrifying for the baker to broach. Phoebe is a medic, a midwife, and, well, there are certain questions Amalia has, information that books and scrolls and absentee mothers have not been able to supply. "Phoebe... do you- ah, that is-" The girl stumbles over her words, pulling uncomfortably on her shirt, her dark gaze trained on the ground before her. "Is there anything... anything I should know. Health wise. If I'm having sex."
Amalia had been more than eager to join Phoebe on this journey, though she still chafes at the idea of it having to be sanctioned. Still, she says nothing in response to the midwife's comment about new rules, a tight frown the only sign of her clear displeasure, her fury with this recent turn of events. Jyoti's presence goes far to calm her, the starwhale humming happily, pleased to return to the woods. Her staff is clutched in her right hand, more for light than any protection; a small pack hangs upon her back, with food and water and gloves and a small glass vial for holding whatever they might collect. Delah had warned her not to touch the blight, that doing so would kill, and Amalia has absolute trust in the warchief's knowledge of the woods.
There is another reason why she agreed to this trip, more awkward and personal, and far more terrifying for the baker to broach. Phoebe is a medic, a midwife, and, well, there are certain questions Amalia has, information that books and scrolls and absentee mothers have not been able to supply. "Phoebe... do you- ah, that is-" The girl stumbles over her words, pulling uncomfortably on her shirt, her dark gaze trained on the ground before her. "Is there anything... anything I should know. Health wise. If I'm having sex."
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
