Amalia
the shield of safrin
She'd meant to send Astra to check on Jyoti, and it is with an expression of amusement that she watches Loren make his way to the back door, calling out into the cold where the whale has been thoroughly enjoying the open sky. She trills a greeting to her friend, far more enthused than her bonded had been, which is rather consistent with her nature. She follows Loren back inside, continuing to sing a merry tune while searching for Astra to play with.
Amalia breathes a sigh of relief as Loren accepts her invitation to stay, glancing awkwardly to the back of the shop where most of the mess remains. "If you really want to," comes the wry response, a crooked smile spreading on her angular face. Dinner is a little more complicated - usually she would make her way home to eat with Deimos, but she could ask a crow to give him a message, letting him know she would not be back.
Gesturing for Loren to follow along the Shield makes her way to the back of the shop, opening the door to let in the cool air and allow for easier clearing. The storeroom contains a few scant bags, one of which has clearly been torn open, its wares scattered across the rather appealingly damp ground. "There was a leak," she explains, gesturing to the ceiling which has been patched together rather precariously. "Something got into the oats, and some of the pumpkin seeds are damp. I'm going to try and dry out all the ones I can save in the oven, but..." She shrugs, the message in the action clear: not many will be salvageable.
Amalia breathes a sigh of relief as Loren accepts her invitation to stay, glancing awkwardly to the back of the shop where most of the mess remains. "If you really want to," comes the wry response, a crooked smile spreading on her angular face. Dinner is a little more complicated - usually she would make her way home to eat with Deimos, but she could ask a crow to give him a message, letting him know she would not be back.
Gesturing for Loren to follow along the Shield makes her way to the back of the shop, opening the door to let in the cool air and allow for easier clearing. The storeroom contains a few scant bags, one of which has clearly been torn open, its wares scattered across the rather appealingly damp ground. "There was a leak," she explains, gesturing to the ceiling which has been patched together rather precariously. "Something got into the oats, and some of the pumpkin seeds are damp. I'm going to try and dry out all the ones I can save in the oven, but..." She shrugs, the message in the action clear: not many will be salvageable.
you are slowly growing
but you are still growing
and that is enough
