i sailed seas of emotion to wander a forest of scars
i am a dance of light and darkness
Amalia listens in stunned silence as Wessex spins her tale.
She can feel each muscle of her body tightening, coiling more closely in disbelief and denial as the Wraith plows further on. That the portals are a connected system Amalia already knows. That one is housed within the Mathair the girl knows as well.
The rest of it, though? That is new, and oh, is it a ride.
She does not respond as Wessex explains the spirit in the tree, except to clench her jaw unhappily as her dark eyes grow wide. She does not react as the queen so blithely dismisses the murder of the fae, except to squeeze her hands into fists tipped by leopard claws. She does not express any new unhappiness with the revelation about Zariah, except in the snarl that flashes across her face. She does not display her opinion of Wessex's line, except in the sharp exhalation that leaves her nose, the tight line that marks her coral lips.
In short, Amalia Chandrakant says nothing. But her body says it all.
And when Deimos mentions options, and Wessex explains that she wants to let them choose- "Why," Amalia interjects suddenly, the word ground out through tightly ground fangs. There is fire in her eyes and on her fingers as well, and lilac horns spiral from the nest of her golden hair. "Why the fuck would you think that any of this is okay."
She is almost more beast than girl now, now. Horns and qilin ears sit above slit leopard eyes and sharpened teeth. Patchwork fur in cream and black is interjected by a mane of lilac and silver, leading to a tail which slashes angrily, swatting the air around her feet. There is fire in her fingers and her toes, dancing dangerously up her limbs - not harmful, not dangerous, not as yet, but bordering precariously close to violence.
"You walk into the woods from which you are forbidden - which you and your goddess nearly killed - and slaughter something sacred to the Fae, because- what? You think you're entitled to everything? You think the world should bow before you, no matter what death and destruction you bring?" Her words are a mix between a snarl and a growl, her eyes fixed solely upon the Queen.
"When the Blight spreads on through other places, what then? When more stand against you taking what is theirs, what then? When you have to slaughter more in the name of your goddess- when will it be enough?"
Abruptly Amalia steps back, drawing up to her full height, her dark eyes hard and sharp as flint as she stares at the woman who helped to raise her, the woman she loves as dearly as family. "This goes beyond gods. This is about you. You are being selfish, taking whatever the fuck you want without giving any thought to the people you hurt along the way. I will not help you murder the world, Wessex. Get out."
She can feel each muscle of her body tightening, coiling more closely in disbelief and denial as the Wraith plows further on. That the portals are a connected system Amalia already knows. That one is housed within the Mathair the girl knows as well.
The rest of it, though? That is new, and oh, is it a ride.
She does not respond as Wessex explains the spirit in the tree, except to clench her jaw unhappily as her dark eyes grow wide. She does not react as the queen so blithely dismisses the murder of the fae, except to squeeze her hands into fists tipped by leopard claws. She does not express any new unhappiness with the revelation about Zariah, except in the snarl that flashes across her face. She does not display her opinion of Wessex's line, except in the sharp exhalation that leaves her nose, the tight line that marks her coral lips.
In short, Amalia Chandrakant says nothing. But her body says it all.
And when Deimos mentions options, and Wessex explains that she wants to let them choose- "Why," Amalia interjects suddenly, the word ground out through tightly ground fangs. There is fire in her eyes and on her fingers as well, and lilac horns spiral from the nest of her golden hair. "Why the fuck would you think that any of this is okay."
She is almost more beast than girl now, now. Horns and qilin ears sit above slit leopard eyes and sharpened teeth. Patchwork fur in cream and black is interjected by a mane of lilac and silver, leading to a tail which slashes angrily, swatting the air around her feet. There is fire in her fingers and her toes, dancing dangerously up her limbs - not harmful, not dangerous, not as yet, but bordering precariously close to violence.
"You walk into the woods from which you are forbidden - which you and your goddess nearly killed - and slaughter something sacred to the Fae, because- what? You think you're entitled to everything? You think the world should bow before you, no matter what death and destruction you bring?" Her words are a mix between a snarl and a growl, her eyes fixed solely upon the Queen.
"When the Blight spreads on through other places, what then? When more stand against you taking what is theirs, what then? When you have to slaughter more in the name of your goddess- when will it be enough?"
Abruptly Amalia steps back, drawing up to her full height, her dark eyes hard and sharp as flint as she stares at the woman who helped to raise her, the woman she loves as dearly as family. "This goes beyond gods. This is about you. You are being selfish, taking whatever the fuck you want without giving any thought to the people you hurt along the way. I will not help you murder the world, Wessex. Get out."
a galaxy of shadows and stars
Amalia
