Amalia
why else are we here if not
Amalia's mouth sets itself in a hard, straight line, her fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure with which she holds the table's edge. To be insulted, misconstrued, and accused of bigotry in her own home is more than she can currently bear; it is only through formidable strength of will that she does not rise and flip the table, does not slap Phoebe for her words.
Silently steaming, the Shield watches as the woman she'd hoped to greet as a friend makes her way to the door. Part of her regrets the encounter, but another part - a strong, stubborn part, a proud part despite the failures she's encountered - holds her firmly in place. She makes no protest of the woman's departure, watching with blazing, onyx eyes as the Nightengale places her hand on the door. "Goodbye, Phoebe," is all the Shield says, waiting for Phoebe to disappear before finally letting the adrenaline fade, head dropping down to her hands.
{fin}
Silently steaming, the Shield watches as the woman she'd hoped to greet as a friend makes her way to the door. Part of her regrets the encounter, but another part - a strong, stubborn part, a proud part despite the failures she's encountered - holds her firmly in place. She makes no protest of the woman's departure, watching with blazing, onyx eyes as the Nightengale places her hand on the door. "Goodbye, Phoebe," is all the Shield says, waiting for Phoebe to disappear before finally letting the adrenaline fade, head dropping down to her hands.
{fin}
to live with unreasonable passion for things?
