Amalia
the shield of safrin
Yes, there are lanterns; Amalia nods her head obediently, biting on her lip. Memories are such fickle things: how can she trust herself to keep them correctly, to know what parts she forgot? In the wake of so many other failures, she does not want to fail in this, too. "I'll make lanterns for them," she promises instead of questioning further, pushing back a lock of hair behind her ear. "May I hang them here, with you?"
The effect of her second question is unexpected, and as Ludo draws away Amalia suddenly feels a clench of dread in her gut. The blank mask seems an ill omen of sorts; swallowing, she tries to find the right words. "I meant... if there had been someone. Or something. A memory, or a soul you hadn't been able to..." The ring flips again between her fingers. The souls in the Spire that Safrin and Delphia had spoken of rise in her mind, but she doesn't feel comfortable bringing it up now. She has already assumed too much. "I'm sorry. It's wrong of me to presume to understand the gods, and to question them. You."
The effect of her second question is unexpected, and as Ludo draws away Amalia suddenly feels a clench of dread in her gut. The blank mask seems an ill omen of sorts; swallowing, she tries to find the right words. "I meant... if there had been someone. Or something. A memory, or a soul you hadn't been able to..." The ring flips again between her fingers. The souls in the Spire that Safrin and Delphia had spoken of rise in her mind, but she doesn't feel comfortable bringing it up now. She has already assumed too much. "I'm sorry. It's wrong of me to presume to understand the gods, and to question them. You."
she is calm in the storm
and anxious in the quiet
and anxious in the quiet
