(open) this sickness, it won't help us redeem this

Amalia

'Cause she's just like the weather
Can't hold her together
Born from dark water
Daughter of the r a i n and s n o w

"...Without regard for the lives she takes in the process," Amalia concludes softly, her voice a brittle, angry line. Fortunately she, too, is eager to let the topic drop, her delight at finding a flower something not to be overshadowed by the Voice and her ilk.

She misses the speculative look, too engrossed in the pretty bloom, and so she believes he must be speaking of the lily once again. "It's really remarkable. Reminds me of the roses that cured the blight..." Trailing off, half-distracted, the Shield glances up again at the man's introduction, accepting the extended hand. "Amalia."

Releasing Falke's hand, Amalia again looks down at the flower, doing her best (which is not great) to keep her impatience from showing in the way she shifts her weight, scales appearing on bare shoulders. "Is this your first time in the Climb?"