On Broken Wings

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help He calls her strong and brave, and the girl smiles crookedly, not sure any of those adjectives apply. "More foolish, maybe." Young, naive inexperienced unaware- these are the words to describe the girl who throws herself headlong into every task, anxiety and brazenness a strange and unsettlingly mixture beneath her skin. But Jigano is measured, purposeful, adept, older and wiser than the ardent girl. And though he thinks himself broken beyond repair, she admires him, respects him, sometimes finds him insufferably close to condescending, and loves him despite it all. There it is again: failure. The word is acrid and familiar on her tongue, a stinging, ringing, discordant song she sings along with easily. If anyone has failed it is Amalia herself, again and again and again. Failed her family, old and new; failed her home, her world, her gods. Biting back the unpleasantness, the girl sighs. It is a thought for later, when she is alone, a darkness to look at in secret and solitude. Now she must be strong and bright, shine light down on her devastated friend. "I do not think Safrin blames you for the blight." A little bit distant, a little amused. "I... I feel awful about it, too. But I don't think we've failed unless we give up. That's the only way you could fail me, Jigano. By giving up." a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine