Amalia
For my part, I know nothing with any certainty
It is sick.Of course it is sick. What isn't, these days, the grip of darkness upon it all, a hand around the throat of Life, vile and black as sickening tar. Amalia has never seen an Undine, but she knows enough to know it should not be this, that the beauty is marred and the song mournful, morose; the girl's heart sinks and breaks at the sight, the tragedy which has befallen yet another part of the woods. Death and decay, ruin and disaster-
It isn't right. It isn't fair. And there is nothing she can do.
Jyoti croons her sympathy, starlight stream flowing through the water as she circles slowly about the Undine, trying to soothe, to comfort, to help. From Deimos' shoulder Amalia watches, owl eyes wide and blinking with sympathy, empathy, love. As the behemoth stops behind the water the girl slips from his shoulder, her talons becoming barren feet as they settle in the pool, a human taking form. She glances at Peter, who has done the same, nodding to the boy as her starmotes float around her.
With Jyoti continuing a mournful harmony Amalia begins to hum, hoping to ease the Undine's torment, to see what aid they could possibly give. She wishes - she wishes - Safrin were here, or Vi, and a quiet prayer is sent to them both, fervent and ardent in hopes they will care. Vi, Safrin, your child is sick. It is the blight, she knows it is, and anger squeezes at her chest. Please give us the strength and knowledge to help her.
To help them all.
but the sight of the stars makes me dream
