Amalia
"Of course it's okay." She does not answer the question or closeness - were is a word that hurts too acutely, implying that they are not now, that they will not be again. Swallowing the baker teaches out to Astra, aiming to run nimble fingers behind the sweet fawn's ears. "I met a luxere last year with red antlers. I sang to him to keep him calm, and helped him shed them. I wonder if he is well, and if his antlers grew back white this year." It is a distant remark, a memory stirred by the creature before her now. Amalia still cherishes those antlers dearly. Would the Luxere be happy to know how she's used them, that they have healed and protected, illuminating the darkest of caves?It is not shock or disgust that fills her as Loren admits his idea, but surprise to hear it from someone else. "I said something similar to Ronin, before..." before he went mad. The solution is far away from ideal, but it might be the best option - for the safety of the blighted, as well as everyone else. Biting her lip, she glances back at Loren. "What did they say?" the girl wonders. She will have to speak to Deimos herself, later.
Picking up the shield and amulet from where they sit on the frozen grass, Amalia extends them to Loren, a question in her eyes. "Did you want to try? If it works, maybe Remi and Deimos' can make more. So we can at least have enough to protect the main places people are at, or those who failed to attract a herd."
she was like the moon-
part of her was always hidden away
part of her was always hidden away
