AMALIA
you're staring at the sky
watching stars collide
Maybe she should be gentler, patient, less pressing, less unsure- but honestly Amalia does not know how to interact with a known assassin, let alone one she dragged from a storm. She does not know how to interact with anyone, or so it sometimes feels, but she remembers wisdom from her grandmother's lips. Food is a language everyone speaks, beti.watching stars collide
So she offers the assassin treats, and smiles a little when she says yes, a careful curl that doesn't quite meet her eyes. That it's better than she's had for months hits Amalia with a sudden pang; she frowns again, shaking her heada nd worrying her lip as she turns away from the girl, retreating briefly to the back of the shop to pack a basket and think.
As Amalia works Jyoti appears, the starwhale crooning a greeting to Ashetta as she swims into the shop. Curious and unafraid, she floats on silent waves beside the stranger, starlit and silly and spun on her back, waiting for belly rubs or praise. Amalia cannot help but laugh as she sees it, returning with a basket laden with snacks: pumpkin scones, yesterday's bread, blackberry preserves and more.
"Here." A little awkward, she pushes it forward, slid toward Ashetta across the counter. "Remi and Ronin both eat like wolves, and Aoife loves bread," she offers by way of explanation, not meeting the electric eyes, the thin gauntness of her face. "And... I was going to have lunch soon. If you ea yes to join." This is true: Amalia often does not have her lunch until late in the day, noon being a rush time for the bakery. She isn't sure why she extends the offer, but something in her hurts for Ashetta.
She remembers being lonely, and scared, and lost, and needing a friend.
