make peace with your broken pieces
She's brought a basket of food, of course; even on her honeymoon Amalia has found work, baking in the kitchen at the inn, trading her goods for wares. A peace offering, a memory: honey cakes, once a favorite of a girl with stars in her eyes. Kneeling down at the small grave, Amalia sets one of the treats out, a wistful smile on her face. "I miss you, little starchild. Your daddies miss you, too." Both of them torn apart in ways she cannot fathom, and one of them seemingly beyond the point of repair.
She figures if she waits long enough he's sure to show up.
Ronin had told her she was welcome, but the Shield still finds it somewhat difficult to believe. Her last time seeing Remi had been anything but civil, bloodstained and beaten as they all were. Now as she stands upon the bluffs and watches the impending storm, Amalia cannot help but wonder what else brews upon a far horizon, waiting for a stiff wind to blow it into their lives.
Hopefully not today.
She figures if she waits long enough he's sure to show up.
Ronin had told her she was welcome, but the Shield still finds it somewhat difficult to believe. Her last time seeing Remi had been anything but civil, bloodstained and beaten as they all were. Now as she stands upon the bluffs and watches the impending storm, Amalia cannot help but wonder what else brews upon a far horizon, waiting for a stiff wind to blow it into their lives.
Hopefully not today.
shield of safrin
