Amalia
I don't know about trusting Vi- and Amalia cannot help the sharpness of her glance, the automatic defenses that rise for her god. "Vi is the god of Life. It is he who gave us the roses. Safrin is his herald." She does not tell him that she tried to save Safrin with one already, or how poorly that went. She has not told anyone yet, and as much as Loren has warmed her to him, their relationship does not extend that far.But it extends to information, and the Shield is always willing to share the things she knows, especially when it regards her gods. Amalia shrugs off her annoyance, exhaling again, trying to maintain something resembling positivity. "What do you know about the gods?" Anything? Nothing? It's difficult to say. Tilting her head curiously, she regards the slender mage. She could wax poetic on the various attributes of the various gods for as long as he will listen, but does not want to begin the deluge unless he cares to hear.
Besides, there are more things to discuss, more issues to investigate, more questions to ask. The lack of real knowledge for long night protection isn't ideal, and the girl bites her lip. "For a week?" she wonders, but doesn't press more, doesn't voice her misgivings. Instead she lets the topic shift, from summons to monsters, and suddenly she frowns. Why is he pushing this issue so hard? Is it a trap, a ploy? She would not have thought as much before, but then again he is a Launceleyn. "I... know what Jigano does." Cryptic, perhaps, but it will confirm or deny her suspicions. Amalia is not well versed in this particular dance; she loathes the steps, doesn't understand it, and hates that it is something she's had, of late, to learn.
And then there are the fae, another problem with no easy solution. "They have summoners. Strong ones. We could send a message to Delah to meet in neutral grounds... or I can take you to the village." The fae warchief has been angrier with her than usual, for reasons Amalia cannot quite identify and does not have the mental capacity to attempt to parse.
She would rather not think or talk about Zariah, about the threats she made and the chaos she stirred. If there is one thing to be said in favor of the Mad Queen, it is that she awoke in Amalia a new sort of fire, a determination to step from shadow and do her best for her home. Still, she is grateful for Jyoti's arrival, the distraction of the starwhale always welcome, starlight soothing the Shield's rougher edges. "She'll be very offended if you don't," Amalia replies with a laugh as Jyoti willingly submits to Astra's inspection, crooning a deep melody and flitting among her antlers. "Have you met Auni, another luxere? I'm sure he would love some company of his own kind, especially with Kiada ill." The brightness in her eyes fades again as she thinks of her wayward charge. Sighing, the baker's shoulders slump. There is always another disaster to avert, another fight to be waged, another rescue executed.
When will it be enough?
she was like the moon-
part of her was always hidden away
part of her was always hidden away
