Amalia
only lonely hid the morning from the stars
✩
She doesn't wince at the comment about Noah, though it does strike her cleanly, the blow landing as Maea must have intended. But spending time pretending, wasting energy and wallowing? Her hands ball into fists on the bed at the accusation, fury and pain running white behind her eyes. Amalia cannot help it; she laughs a little at the comment, turning piercing black eyes to the pale girl. "You would be the expert," the baker bites back: too cruelly, too quickly, the barb wielded in some level of defense. She has been bedridden for all of a week, perhaps; isn't she allowed to hurt a little? Isn't she allowed to take this time and wallow in pity, to rage and wrap herself in devastation without everyone and their uncle showing up uninvited to remind her that she needs to cheer up?
Glaring at Maea, the Shield scoots up in her bed, dragging her legs pointedly beneath the sheet. "Did you really just come here to tell me to get over it, Maea? Because I'm not really in the mood to deal with your hypocrisy right now, or to hear about how you've overcome so much worse. You have no idea what I've been through this year, because the minute something didn't go your way you disappeared."
Glaring at Maea, the Shield scoots up in her bed, dragging her legs pointedly beneath the sheet. "Did you really just come here to tell me to get over it, Maea? Because I'm not really in the mood to deal with your hypocrisy right now, or to hear about how you've overcome so much worse. You have no idea what I've been through this year, because the minute something didn't go your way you disappeared."
