Shield Meet Crown

Rage and rage and rage and rage. In the end all she can see is red, hazy, heated, hateful red as Zariah continues to drivel and drone, insult after insult slung like mud, stinging the baker's face and eyes. Fingernails stretch to claws, digging into the wood of the staff as she struggles to hold her fire and her tongue. What do you know of my gods? she wants to snap; What do you know of my home? What do you know of guiding, of caring, you hollow shell of a real person, you who would make the world in your image without appreciation for the beauty already there? And then she makes a terrible threat, and the baker's blood runs cold. Zariah turns away, and for a brief and terrible moment an image plays across her mind. How easy would it be to raise her hand, lightning-fast with feline reflexes, and draw a claw across her throat? To see the blood spill on the pavement, to watch the Mad Queen's black hole close before it can destroy anything else? How many lives could she save, how much good would it do, if she ends it here and now--- By the time the woman is out of sight Amalia's heart is ash. Shaking, pale, the baker raises a hand to her mouth before turning and walking away, unclear of where exactly she is going, only sure she cannot be here. Amalia Her eyes, they know too much. She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.