AMALIA
save some love for yourself, my dear
Amalia is not surprised by Delah's lack of formalities, having encountered the fae often enough now to anticipate nothing but stoicism, an eagerness to simply get to the point. The jaguar is beautiful, black and sleek with auerate eyes, a mirror to the creamy snow leopardess. She cannot say that she has seen Delah like this before, but she recognizes her immediately by her regal poise and mental voice, anxiety rising back in her breast.
I... have news. And a request. How much does the warchief already know? How much does she care? Amalia steels herself before plunging in, not particularly excited to be the bearer of ill tidings, the one to tell Delah about how little she has learned.
She decides to start with the most important, and go from there.
Safrin is sick. After the tulmhainar... she broke through the Spire. She has the blight now. I... I spoke to Vi, who said he would look into a way to cure it. But she is getting worse. This, more than queens, more than books, more than anything else, fills the girl with dread. We made her a new shrine, and offered her infant stars. But I do not know how long she has.
I... have news. And a request. How much does the warchief already know? How much does she care? Amalia steels herself before plunging in, not particularly excited to be the bearer of ill tidings, the one to tell Delah about how little she has learned.
She decides to start with the most important, and go from there.
Safrin is sick. After the tulmhainar... she broke through the Spire. She has the blight now. I... I spoke to Vi, who said he would look into a way to cure it. But she is getting worse. This, more than queens, more than books, more than anything else, fills the girl with dread. We made her a new shrine, and offered her infant stars. But I do not know how long she has.
