Amalia
a certain darkness is needed to see the stars
✩
He reaches for her, but she doesn't see it, too lost in a world of her own design. The ground is painted in oil pastels, rippling and smearing into the sky. It's strange and wonderful and it makes her dizzy, so she drops down, hard, and sits. There's a long, long, long stalk of grass in front of her; she pulls it out above the roots and places one end in her mouth, wondering if it will have water at the end.
"No. I'm still looking." The Shield shakes her head with vigor, sending the grass shoot flopping through the air. She stops when vertigo once more strikes her, extending her palms out in and staring at them with a shocking intensity. "Maybe there isn't anything to find. Maybe I don't exist." It's a frightening thought, but soothing, too. Maybe she's just the fever dream of a girl who died at LongNight, so many years ago.
Looking away from her palms, she finds Deimos' face. "Did you find yourself?" she wonders softly, head tilted in a curious angle, pale in the light of the stars.
"No. I'm still looking." The Shield shakes her head with vigor, sending the grass shoot flopping through the air. She stops when vertigo once more strikes her, extending her palms out in and staring at them with a shocking intensity. "Maybe there isn't anything to find. Maybe I don't exist." It's a frightening thought, but soothing, too. Maybe she's just the fever dream of a girl who died at LongNight, so many years ago.
Looking away from her palms, she finds Deimos' face. "Did you find yourself?" she wonders softly, head tilted in a curious angle, pale in the light of the stars.
