born from dark water, daughter of the rain and snow
She doesn't know what he's talking about now, calling her an angel while she rises above him, armed with her bread and the lid of a pot. The latter of which she has at some point discarded, now that she stops to look at her hands, and the former of which is... yeah, it's bread. She could have sworn it was a sword.
There's blood on his hand when he moves his blanket, escaping from poorly constructed bandages and leaving stains of scarlet scattered all across his sheets. Without much thought on the matter Amalia reaches out for him, settling onto the bed at last and taking his rounded palm in hers. "I'm sorry about yours, too," the Shield says absently, letting a breeze that smells like lavender and summer sunshine wrap around them both. "I'm not golden, though. I'm just... tired. Gods, I'm so, so tired."
There's blood on his hand when he moves his blanket, escaping from poorly constructed bandages and leaving stains of scarlet scattered all across his sheets. Without much thought on the matter Amalia reaches out for him, settling onto the bed at last and taking his rounded palm in hers. "I'm sorry about yours, too," the Shield says absently, letting a breeze that smells like lavender and summer sunshine wrap around them both. "I'm not golden, though. I'm just... tired. Gods, I'm so, so tired."
shield of safrin
