Amalia
the shield of safrin
Watching Wessex focus and struggle, her face pinched as she searches for the name, would have been comical in other circumstances. Even in her current state of unhappiness a smile teases at her lips, amusement and affection softening her expression. "Loki." Extending a hand toward the newly bonded pair, the Shield regards the dragon with eyes the color of her scales. "Welcome to our world."
Of course, if Loki does turn toward her Amalia will drop her hand like it's burned. As it is she pulls back suddenly, retreating into herself. An image flashes before her eyes: Coffee falling as he's encased in ice, Adam's scream, the white dragon's anger. So many dead, and nothing she could do.
Inhaling a shuddering breath, Amalia turns away.
"I should... Let you two get to know each other." Rubbing her wrist, she moves to stand. For a moment she pauses, looking like she might say something. Thinking better, she shakes her head. "I... I'm sorry."
Of course, if Loki does turn toward her Amalia will drop her hand like it's burned. As it is she pulls back suddenly, retreating into herself. An image flashes before her eyes: Coffee falling as he's encased in ice, Adam's scream, the white dragon's anger. So many dead, and nothing she could do.
Inhaling a shuddering breath, Amalia turns away.
"I should... Let you two get to know each other." Rubbing her wrist, she moves to stand. For a moment she pauses, looking like she might say something. Thinking better, she shakes her head. "I... I'm sorry."
she's just like the weather
can't hold her together
can't hold her together
