until i'm ready, let me be
Slowly the rest of it swims into focus, faces and voiced, figures and words. She reaches for Wessex as a child might her mother, the greatest beacon of familiarity despite their countless differences - differences momentarily forgotten as Amalia searches for comfort and reassurance, her pale face awash with sweat.
But everyone is fine brings her back, her dark eyes eagerly seeking confirmation of that fact. Once again she attempts to rise, wincing at the strain it puts on her still-fragile arms. The pain is worth it for what she sees: Amun holding a frantic Jyoti, Jigano knelt beside her on the ground, and there, clearing the rubble away-
"Deimos!" Amalia gasps, completely disregarding her injuries in the relief of seeing him, never mind how he got there, how long he has been working. Reaching out weakly but with growing strength the girl tries to grab her lover, tears in her eyes as her bruised body protests. She tries to rise further but her legs aren't helping, and it is with another gasp of agony that she catches herself on her shoulders as she falls.
She doesn't notice the pain as much, though, because she's busy staring at her legs.
Her gnarled, bruised, battered legs.
Her woefully wounded, black and blue legs.
Her legs which ought to scream in agony, and yet...
"I can't feel them," Amalia whispers. "I can't feel my legs."
But everyone is fine brings her back, her dark eyes eagerly seeking confirmation of that fact. Once again she attempts to rise, wincing at the strain it puts on her still-fragile arms. The pain is worth it for what she sees: Amun holding a frantic Jyoti, Jigano knelt beside her on the ground, and there, clearing the rubble away-
"Deimos!" Amalia gasps, completely disregarding her injuries in the relief of seeing him, never mind how he got there, how long he has been working. Reaching out weakly but with growing strength the girl tries to grab her lover, tears in her eyes as her bruised body protests. She tries to rise further but her legs aren't helping, and it is with another gasp of agony that she catches herself on her shoulders as she falls.
She doesn't notice the pain as much, though, because she's busy staring at her legs.
Her gnarled, bruised, battered legs.
Her woefully wounded, black and blue legs.
Her legs which ought to scream in agony, and yet...
"I can't feel them," Amalia whispers. "I can't feel my legs."
i have to heal myself
AmaLiA
