Prodigal

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help He accepts the return of responsibility - not that she'd doubted for a moment that he would - and it is another weight which rolls from her shoulders, one less thing to worry about, one fewer task to fail. He has always been better suited to leadership than she, more dedicated, more motivated. Her claiming the Loreseekers was done only in effort to keep the guild alive, and even that had almost ended in disaster. That he is willing to reclaim his crown before she has a chance to break it sets her a little more at ease. She shakes her head again, her forehead sweeping against his as he says that he is proud. Proud of what? Of her arrogance, her stubbornness? A low laugh escapes her, and she pulls away again, eyes downcast and smile distant as she turns to face the fire. "I didn't do much but make things worse, I'm afraid. If Zariah hadn't disappeared, well..." Much would be different now, perhaps. Maybe they would both be imprisoned. Maybe the blight would have consumed them all. Maybe Amalia should have listened to the Merciless, and stopped trying to be something she is not. a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine