Amalia
she was afraid of heights
Amalia blinks as Ludo appears, smiling slightly at the being who sits among the trees. "It is a you," she softly agrees, moving her fingers to make the puppet reach up and wave, its black silky rags fluttering lightly as it floats above her sternum. "My grandmother used to put on a show in the Festival of Lights, do you remember? I... I'm sorry I haven't done it, since she died."
Sitting up, she is surprised to find herself face to face with the porcelain mask of the soul collector Blinking, she freezes, for a moment bemused. Jyoti has no such trepidation, the little calf cooing and humming at the attention, a smattering of starlight leaving her spout. Brazenly she swims among the being's fabric, playing her own strange game of peek-a-boo as Amalia stares on, utterly transfixed.
"Are these your woods?" Amalia asks, glancing back among the red trees. "They're beautiful. Have they been safe from the blight?"
Sitting up, she is surprised to find herself face to face with the porcelain mask of the soul collector Blinking, she freezes, for a moment bemused. Jyoti has no such trepidation, the little calf cooing and humming at the attention, a smattering of starlight leaving her spout. Brazenly she swims among the being's fabric, playing her own strange game of peek-a-boo as Amalia stares on, utterly transfixed.
"Are these your woods?" Amalia asks, glancing back among the red trees. "They're beautiful. Have they been safe from the blight?"
but she was much more afraid
of never flying
