Shield Meet Crown

She talks a lot, this self-styled Queen, words falling like rain from her lips. Is it characteristic of monarchs, of leaders, to so enjoy hearing themselves speak? Biting the inside of her cheek, the girl remains stoic, impassive, calm despite the war of emotion raging behind black eyes- or perhaps because of it. There are so many things she can think of to say and do, so many words she has wanted to exchange with this woman. Venom comes easy in the dark, but here, in the Temple, outside the haven where she met Vi, the baker holds her tongue, a tilt of her head the only acknowledgment of Zariah's question, her onyx gaze still hard. But it does not seem Zariah is particularly interested in gaining a response. She brings up the meeting, and Amalia is reminded of the disaster that was, though her perception clearly differs from that of the Launceleyn mage. Stiffening a little at the reminder of her action at the Notice Board, the baker wonders if this is the reason, if she is being sought for her open defiance, if she is going to be dragged off to the jail of which she has heard so much. Her grip on her staff tightens, anxiety threatening to bring leopardlike traits back to the fore. It takes a stirring refrain from Jyoti to settle the girl back down. Ah, no, there is still more. Amalia cannot help the mild incredulity that flutters across her face as Zariah talks of inconsequential opinions, a brief flare of anger rising once more in her breast. You mean opinions against you, the girl wants to snap, but still this woman is droning on, seeming to greatly enjoy the sound of her own voice. Ire rises in her throat (why did you corner me, if only to listen to yourself talk?) but still the baker holds her tongue. Is she so elusive? I live in the place I work. Is she such a woman of action? More than you, but that doesn't take much. Anxious, angry, she is silent until that final barb, the slap in the face that Zariah throws in, the insult to injury that sparks something deeper, something more infuriated than afraid. "There are many things on my mind," the girl replies, a challenge in her stare. "But I doubt my, ah, inconsequential opinions would interest someone like yourself." Amalia Her eyes, they know too much. She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.