AMALIA
you're staring at the sky
watching stars collide
She laughs a little, unbidden brightness as Ashetta speaks of Aoife's hunger, the appetite of toddlers being a notorious thing. "At least she still has upward growth - they're only growing sideways," the baker replies, also wry, humor lighting the darker edges of her alto voice. It is nice to pretend for a moment that they are two simple people, unknown and without blurred history, no sharp slices of threats and mistakes arcing like lightning between them. Does Ashetta know what Rory is to the girl? Does she remember who Rory is at all?watching stars collide
Amalia clenches and unclenches her fists, looking away again. Spiderwebs of connotations, interactions and raw red wounds. The world is bigger and more complicated than ever, a fact that Ashetta shares responsibility for - but Amalia bears it, too.
The slight assassin takes her invitation, admitting to hunger and eliciting another smile from the baker. She may not know how to talk about the past, but she knows how to feed, to soothe wounds with the balm of baked goods, smoked meats and hard cheese and vegetable pies. Looking back over at Ashetta, the Shield rolls her shoulders in a shrug. "I usually put something together here - people bring me food a lot, to trade. I have some grouse and dumpling stew from yesterday which should be good."
