Amalia
the shield of safrin
"Fury at Jigano?" She raises an eyebrow, something like curiosity - the flicker of a feeling - rising up in her face. Individuals being angry at the bard hardly feels like a new occurrence these days, and she remembers acutely the dueling descriptions of what happened in the Spire's base. Or perhaps this is her fault again, a misunderstanding of the mistakes Amalia made that day in the temple. "It wasn't his fault..."
But she trails off. The peace is worth it, tenuous as it may be.
"Anyway. Thank you." It's all she has to say before the distraction of the voice draws her back to their surroundings, the task at hand. Narrowing her eyes, she follows Wessex toward the source of the sound, her qilin ears picking up the scraping of claws beneath stone. Shifting her body into otter form, she slips beneath it before shifting again. The qilin is strong and muscular, and the stone rises up upon her back, giving Wessex space to reach below and grab the little form.
But she trails off. The peace is worth it, tenuous as it may be.
"Anyway. Thank you." It's all she has to say before the distraction of the voice draws her back to their surroundings, the task at hand. Narrowing her eyes, she follows Wessex toward the source of the sound, her qilin ears picking up the scraping of claws beneath stone. Shifting her body into otter form, she slips beneath it before shifting again. The qilin is strong and muscular, and the stone rises up upon her back, giving Wessex space to reach below and grab the little form.
she's just like the weather
can't hold her together
can't hold her together
