Amalia
the shield of safrin
And there it is: the string uncoiled, the hunter released from his confines. She senses the movement with an animal's instincts a heartbeat before it happens, and springs back with the skill of a dancer, or more accurately, a deer. It isn't that she wants to evade or avoid him; she simply wants to play a little, to keep up distractions of sunlight and mirth and continue to blot out the dark.
Light and lithe and flush with laughter Amalia leaps back from her husband, landing in a ready crouch should he continue to pursue. There's a wildness to the Shield already, her golden hair cut through with strands of lilac, her ears now curved to feline shape. She could take readily to air or water but for now she stays on land, waiting for him to make the next action in their ridiculous, juvenile game of chess.
Light and lithe and flush with laughter Amalia leaps back from her husband, landing in a ready crouch should he continue to pursue. There's a wildness to the Shield already, her golden hair cut through with strands of lilac, her ears now curved to feline shape. She could take readily to air or water but for now she stays on land, waiting for him to make the next action in their ridiculous, juvenile game of chess.
i belong to you
the way the stars belong to the moon
the way the stars belong to the moon
