Amalia
the shield of safrin
Further examination of the fae woman has reveals a number of things. The prettiness of her: auburn hair on a pale form, beautiful wings of silver, a comfort here among the world of nature that the Shield can never hope to achieve. A spur of envy rises, unbidden, like fire in Amalia's breast. Noticed too is the way she seems to have an understanding of what's going on, which the slender woman who stands on the ground finds she sorely lacks.
And, of course, there are the rags.
She knows those rags. Perhaps another might not have noticed as quickly, but Amalia is an acolyte, a student of the gods- few of their treasures escape her attention. So this fae is a follower of Ludo, garbed the same way Maea had been. Blessed and treasured, but to what end?
The fae has no helpful information, and so Amalia relaxes her neck, looking back to the canopies. "It isn't native to here," the girl explains quietly. "It was captive here, like us. Frey told me... and I hope to help it return home, after LongNight. To free it." Where that home is the Shield does not know; she can only hope that somewhere in the Atheneum or the Undercroft there is information to help her on this self-appointed task.
Her own name on the lips of the fae isn't something she expected; Amalia blinks, turning back to the woman, confusion obvious in her face. "I am, yes. Did you... did Delah send you?" This makes the most sense to her, though to what end she cannot say. Probably to chastise her for bringing Tarasha to the Underground.
And, of course, there are the rags.
She knows those rags. Perhaps another might not have noticed as quickly, but Amalia is an acolyte, a student of the gods- few of their treasures escape her attention. So this fae is a follower of Ludo, garbed the same way Maea had been. Blessed and treasured, but to what end?
The fae has no helpful information, and so Amalia relaxes her neck, looking back to the canopies. "It isn't native to here," the girl explains quietly. "It was captive here, like us. Frey told me... and I hope to help it return home, after LongNight. To free it." Where that home is the Shield does not know; she can only hope that somewhere in the Atheneum or the Undercroft there is information to help her on this self-appointed task.
Her own name on the lips of the fae isn't something she expected; Amalia blinks, turning back to the woman, confusion obvious in her face. "I am, yes. Did you... did Delah send you?" This makes the most sense to her, though to what end she cannot say. Probably to chastise her for bringing Tarasha to the Underground.
she is calm in the storm
and anxious in the quiet
and anxious in the quiet
