Amalia
I sat with my anger long enough
"I don't blame you. As I said, I made a mistake." Nephele falls upon her in a deluge of judgment, and Amalia stands beneath the onslaught as one made of stone. The truth is that for all her accusations, her condemnation, her condescension, the Fae is not telling Amalia anything the girl hasn't told herself a hundred thousand times. Guilt and shame have hardened into armor, a shield to protect her from the crushing weight this otherwise would be.
And so Amalia stands still and silent, listening to Nephele speak and holding her own tongue. To an extent, at least. "You're right," she agrees quietly to the accusation that she put her kin above others, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "Sam is not the only one who deserves to live. They all do."
As for approval, as for blood- Amalia has already acknowledged her guilt. This is not an attempt to undo what she has done: the stains of that will remain firmly printed on her heart. "Can you tell me, honestly, that it wasn't you?" she asks, looking at the wild woman and meeting her with steel. "I know what I did was wrong. If my part in it needs to be revealed to stop more death, so be it." Fear ripples through here, the inevitable rejection, and yet the Shield holds firm.
"You're right, Nephele. I will not kill you. And I am sorry for those you lost - your brothers and sisters did not deserve to die. I still believe the Voice must pay, and I still intend to hold her to trial for her crimes. But the Ascended were once Vi's children just like you and I, and to rob any of His gift is something I can no longer abide."
And so Amalia stands still and silent, listening to Nephele speak and holding her own tongue. To an extent, at least. "You're right," she agrees quietly to the accusation that she put her kin above others, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "Sam is not the only one who deserves to live. They all do."
As for approval, as for blood- Amalia has already acknowledged her guilt. This is not an attempt to undo what she has done: the stains of that will remain firmly printed on her heart. "Can you tell me, honestly, that it wasn't you?" she asks, looking at the wild woman and meeting her with steel. "I know what I did was wrong. If my part in it needs to be revealed to stop more death, so be it." Fear ripples through here, the inevitable rejection, and yet the Shield holds firm.
"You're right, Nephele. I will not kill you. And I am sorry for those you lost - your brothers and sisters did not deserve to die. I still believe the Voice must pay, and I still intend to hold her to trial for her crimes. But the Ascended were once Vi's children just like you and I, and to rob any of His gift is something I can no longer abide."
until she told me her real name was grief
