Amalia
Amalia pushes back the flicker of wry irritation that an Outlander would try to instruct the girl on how to pray to her own gods, smoothing down her hair and taking a calming breath. Tensions have been high all around, and it would not do for the baker to project her frustrations onto Phoebe, who has only ever been kind and well-meaning, if a little bewilderingly overeager. "I'll remember that," is all she says, smiling slightly at the other girl.
The midwife's surprise takes Amalia slightly aback, a bemused frown pulling at her brows. "I can't imagine wanting any, let alone lots." Her laugh is not unkind, more amused, though she shudders at the thought of trying to wrangle multiple small humans, to instill them all with the values of life and protect them from the hardships of the world. "Emmett feels the same, then?" she questions slyly, a sidelong glance given to Phoebe, pleased to be able to turn the tables at last. "He does come from a sizable family. My mom helped deliver a few of them, you know."
Something black catches her eye, and Amalia suddenly kneels, pushing aside some grass. "Look!" Pointing to a shiny, unnatural patch of snow moss, the girl's voice and expression grows harsh. "That's what the blight looks like. Don't touch it. Here-" and she produces the glove and small glass vial, ready to scrape up a sample and tuck it away.
The midwife's surprise takes Amalia slightly aback, a bemused frown pulling at her brows. "I can't imagine wanting any, let alone lots." Her laugh is not unkind, more amused, though she shudders at the thought of trying to wrangle multiple small humans, to instill them all with the values of life and protect them from the hardships of the world. "Emmett feels the same, then?" she questions slyly, a sidelong glance given to Phoebe, pleased to be able to turn the tables at last. "He does come from a sizable family. My mom helped deliver a few of them, you know."
Something black catches her eye, and Amalia suddenly kneels, pushing aside some grass. "Look!" Pointing to a shiny, unnatural patch of snow moss, the girl's voice and expression grows harsh. "That's what the blight looks like. Don't touch it. Here-" and she produces the glove and small glass vial, ready to scrape up a sample and tuck it away.
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
