emptiness in harmony

she didn't want to love
she wanted to b e l o v e d
and that was entirely different

Though no small part of her is reluctant to release the anchor of Evie's embrace, Amalia nonetheless is obedient to her sister, disengaging and returning to the cold loneliness of the back of the counter, her facade slipping for a moment before the smile returns. It's such a natural thing, the two of them set opposite like this. A flashback to a memory of a simpler time; Amalia wants desperately to sink her claws in and never let go, to sit in this familiarity and staunchly defy the inevitability of further trauma.

Alas, though, they are all of them haunted, condemned to trauma again and again. The reminder of LongNight stings like a whip; looking away to the shrine at the window the Shield unconsciously rubs at a place on her right arm where more wounds lay hidden, swallowing back the memory of the boy exploding in her arms.

At least the point Evie brings is an easy one. Snorting a note of almost-laughter, Amalia shakes her head. "You're better suited to be our queen than she ever was," the girl says softly, not caring that it may be tactless, in wretched taste to speak ill of the dead. Resolute and steadfast the Shield looks back to her sister, a firm certainty in the dark eyes that outshines even her fear. "You're from this land. You know and care about our people and our customs, and you're stronger than she ever was. Stronger than any of them. Even Wessex."

And while Amalia cannot deny that the next revelation hurts her, she cannot say she is surprised. Evie has never shared the Shield's love of their deities: Abandoned, the Evergreen has always been closer to Rishima's views. "What do you mean?" she questions carefully, returning to her kneading, a furrow in her brow. Better to hear the extent of the transgression before offering ways to make it better, even if her mind is already feeling with plans for reconciliation.

Amalia

we are all b r o k e n
that's how the l i g h t gets in