she had magic in her eyes even the stars envied
She doesn't say for knocking, because it seems like rather a moot point by now, and besides, she has greater things to apologize for still looming on the horizon. So she shrugs in response, an awkward half smile flitting across her face before fading, falling back down to a mask of uncertainty, the matter at hand still heavy on her mind.
Ronin's tone is easy as always, but Amalia does not trust it (it's hard to trust anything, these days). Instead she keeps her eyes on the shelves, glancing occasionally at Aoife on the rug, always anxious, always watchful, taking solace in the child's progress while worrying, worrying, worrying what the future will bring for her, for them, for everyone here. "I've... never been a soldier before." Amalia admits, still facing away from him, still frowning, still unsure. "It was probably foolish of me to sign up, but..." But I couldn't bear to see my friends dragged into something, and be left powerless.
It is the thing that hurts the most, in the end: feeling powerless while her world changes and grows, while things fall apart around her and without her knowledge or consent. Amalia is used to living in a small world, a community where every change happened with a rippling of knowledge and consent. "What do you think will happen?" She is a child of a bubble, a shattered snow globe with the water leaking out who does not fully know how to breathe.
Ronin's tone is easy as always, but Amalia does not trust it (it's hard to trust anything, these days). Instead she keeps her eyes on the shelves, glancing occasionally at Aoife on the rug, always anxious, always watchful, taking solace in the child's progress while worrying, worrying, worrying what the future will bring for her, for them, for everyone here. "I've... never been a soldier before." Amalia admits, still facing away from him, still frowning, still unsure. "It was probably foolish of me to sign up, but..." But I couldn't bear to see my friends dragged into something, and be left powerless.
It is the thing that hurts the most, in the end: feeling powerless while her world changes and grows, while things fall apart around her and without her knowledge or consent. Amalia is used to living in a small world, a community where every change happened with a rippling of knowledge and consent. "What do you think will happen?" She is a child of a bubble, a shattered snow globe with the water leaking out who does not fully know how to breathe.
