AMALiA
She watches, hollow, as Ronin sits, but does not accept the invitation to join. If she could bring herself to sit, to sleep, to relax at all, she might have done so in the hours since her life began to spin out of control. Instead she is wound like a broken toy, twitching without any sense of purpose, utterly lost on what to do with her anxious energy and indignation, spinning and spinning and spinning. "To insult me, mostly," she answers blandly, too tired to say anything but what she feels. How long has it been since she slept? Since she felt comfortable enough in her skin to relax? "To tell me I was pious and worthless and nothing but a childish baker. Things I could have told her myself." A mirthless laugh does not soften the truth of the words.Amalia spent so long believing these things of herself, it is easy enough for someone like Zariah to push them back to the fore.
She turns away from the guildmaster, pacing, stalking, catlike, a strangely feline grace despite her human form. "More importantly, she seems to have plans to make people who are close to the Old Gods second class citizens. Or exiles. Or dead. It wasn't super clear." A tight shrug, the anxiety palpable as she moves. "She told me to leave, before that happens. Which will be hard, since she's also decided to arrest me in a week."
the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
