Amalia
she was afraid of heights
Amalia lies on her back in the woods, not particularly caring who finds her. After all, what's the worst that will happen?
She'll get thrown in jail?
The Shield had flown in on wings of starlight, a shadow in the falling night. Never one to be left behind, Jyoti followed eagerly, the little starwhale rather more conspicuous than her owl companion as they make their way out of the settlement and across the fields and past the border of the Hollowed Grounds. Zariah may have guards and floozies, but the girl knows this land as well as she knows herself. It is easy enough for her to slip by, evade a man at the edge of the Outskirts and find her way into the woods.
Amalia sighs and closes her eyes, as though by doing so she might forget for just a moment all that's gone wrong. Between her fingers is a simple toy, a silk-spun puppet she'd enjoyed as a girl. It looks like Ludo, soft black rags and a white stone mask with strings to allow for simple movement. Her grandmother made it years ago, part of a puppet show the woman put on every year for the Festival of Lights. It is a remnant of a simpler time, when all the girl worried about were loaves of bread left too long in the oven and what lesson of her mother she would have to endure. Staring up through the crimson trees, Amalia exhales a breath. How nice would it be to stay here forever, safe beneath the canopies, wrapped in the stillness and scent of the boughs? Away from the squabbles of Queens and convicts, escapees of responsibility, of threats and fears? Here where the world is still peaceful and pure, beautiful, unblighted-
Except that it's not.
"See, Jyo? This is Ludo. It leads spirits off to Mort." The whale knows all this, of course- she is older than Amalia, or so the baker has come to suspect. But it comforts the girl to repeat the stories, and the starwhale never seems to mind. "It can take the form of those who are lost to us, to remind us who we love. It was always my grandmother's favorite; she used to say it came to be because of Mort's love for us." Her nimble fingers raise the figure, making it dance against the dark sky.
She'll get thrown in jail?
The Shield had flown in on wings of starlight, a shadow in the falling night. Never one to be left behind, Jyoti followed eagerly, the little starwhale rather more conspicuous than her owl companion as they make their way out of the settlement and across the fields and past the border of the Hollowed Grounds. Zariah may have guards and floozies, but the girl knows this land as well as she knows herself. It is easy enough for her to slip by, evade a man at the edge of the Outskirts and find her way into the woods.
Amalia sighs and closes her eyes, as though by doing so she might forget for just a moment all that's gone wrong. Between her fingers is a simple toy, a silk-spun puppet she'd enjoyed as a girl. It looks like Ludo, soft black rags and a white stone mask with strings to allow for simple movement. Her grandmother made it years ago, part of a puppet show the woman put on every year for the Festival of Lights. It is a remnant of a simpler time, when all the girl worried about were loaves of bread left too long in the oven and what lesson of her mother she would have to endure. Staring up through the crimson trees, Amalia exhales a breath. How nice would it be to stay here forever, safe beneath the canopies, wrapped in the stillness and scent of the boughs? Away from the squabbles of Queens and convicts, escapees of responsibility, of threats and fears? Here where the world is still peaceful and pure, beautiful, unblighted-
Except that it's not.
"See, Jyo? This is Ludo. It leads spirits off to Mort." The whale knows all this, of course- she is older than Amalia, or so the baker has come to suspect. But it comforts the girl to repeat the stories, and the starwhale never seems to mind. "It can take the form of those who are lost to us, to remind us who we love. It was always my grandmother's favorite; she used to say it came to be because of Mort's love for us." Her nimble fingers raise the figure, making it dance against the dark sky.
but she was much more afraid
of never flying
