Amalia
For my part, I know nothing with any certainty
Perhaps it is a side effect of growing up in a small community; perhaps it is simply the easy comfort she finds in the girl who she has come to see as part of her pride. For whatever reason, Amalia feels no shame, no consternation in opening the door, pushing her way into the Harpy's abode.The smile on her face quickly fades as they are met not by Kiada, but a frantic luxere, his antlers glowing in the dim light. Something is wrong. Amalia can sense it, too, turning a worried look up to Deimos as Auni pushes them into the house, her mouth going dry with a sudden disquiet, fear apparent in her onyx eyes. Is she still wounded from the Cloisters? But it's been so long, too long for those wounds to fester and last.
No, there is something worse at work here, something Amalia does not want to name, but recognizes immediately as they grow closer and Kiada's pale hands begin to shake.
Amalia drops to her knees by Kiada, wasting no time in placing her hand on the girl's skin, a palm pressed gently to her cheek, checking for more signs of the illness, more evidence it is everything she fears. Her blood is as icy as the girl's pale skin, a chill settling into her as certainty falls through her mind like a weight. Deimos offers healing, and the baker shakes her head, onyx eyes never leaving the icy blue of her beloved friend, her voice soft and matter-of-fact. "It might help a little, but it won't matter in the end. Kiada has the blight."
Laying a hand on the girl's knee, Amalia tries to maintain her composure, to keep the panic from her mind where Kiada can clearly see it. "How..." She swallows, glances away, looking to Deimos for comfort, for strength, before turning back to the invalid. "How long have you had symptoms?" How long do we have?
but the sight of the stars makes me dream
