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
She nods slowly in response to his reasoning, because it makes some sense. "I think I understand." Unconsciously Amalia runs a hand through her hair, briefly exposing the shrapnel scars that littler the left side of her brow like stars. Some scars and wounds make people who they are; she'd said the same to Loren, once, when he wiped her history away.Can't hold her together
Born from dark water
Daughter of the r a i n and s n o w
Scooting onto the edge of the hotspring, Amalia lets her fingers dangle into the water, relishing the warmth. "Is that like a... a medic?" the Shield wonders of Falke, head tilted curiously. "My mother was a medic... though she didn't heal minds. I don't think there are many with that ability." The idea of a therapist is so woefully far from her lexicon as to be nonexistent. And yes, she does wonder if he couldn't heal his own hip, but she does not press the issue more than she already has.
The question he puts has her blushing again, an awkward chuckle leaving her as she frowns in bemused thought. "I don't... I'm a baker. Have been most of my life." Her hands have returned to her lap, now, and she stares at the flower she holds. "Though... I guess I don't really do that anymore." Absently she bites on her lip, eyes still fixed on the flower, though her expression grows steadily softer, warm. "I suppose I, I'm doing what I always wanted, now. Serving the Old Gods as best I can. Trying to help preserve the balance- to walk the line of life."
A halo of marigolds has sprung up in her hair by the time Amalia finishes, her voice hot with passion and pride at the thing she has become. Terrifying as it may be, the Shield has always yearned for this; inadequate as she often feels, her appreciation remains undimmed. Turning vibrant black eyes upon him, the girl smiles, tilting her head. "What about you? If you could be anything, what would you be?"
