even when i was a child
i’ve always known there was something to be frightened of
i’ve always known there was something to be frightened of
Amalia does not hesitate in answering the question, her shoulders rolling in a shrug. "One that idolizes Voice, rather than the Old Gods." There isn't bitterness in her voice, only resignation, a simple acceptance of the fact that her home is bound to change. Pretending they do not stand on opposite sides is a waste of time and energy, when it has already been thoroughly disproved.
The unicorns are a safer topic, and travel as well. "I'd like to find myself," Amalia agrees, adding a flower to the braid, the beginning of a crown. "I don't think I've had a good sense of who that is since nani died." Wessex is one of the few people who still remembers Amalia's grandmother, a pious, kind woman who always had a smile and a story and a treat for those in the Grounds. She is one of the few who knows first hand how hard the loss hit the Shield, too, just as Amalia has an inkling to how difficult it was for the Wraith to lose Magrethe.
The list of names of those they mourn grows longer every year. "Aoife, Peter, Adam," the girl contributes softly, almost like a prayer. Though the last three have her looking up, a wry expression on her face. "Rory and Jigano left together. Also to travel. So I'm sure they're galivanting somewhere." Any bitterness in her voice can be excused, she things, given the way the pair of them abandoned their duties and their friends.
The unicorns are a safer topic, and travel as well. "I'd like to find myself," Amalia agrees, adding a flower to the braid, the beginning of a crown. "I don't think I've had a good sense of who that is since nani died." Wessex is one of the few people who still remembers Amalia's grandmother, a pious, kind woman who always had a smile and a story and a treat for those in the Grounds. She is one of the few who knows first hand how hard the loss hit the Shield, too, just as Amalia has an inkling to how difficult it was for the Wraith to lose Magrethe.
The list of names of those they mourn grows longer every year. "Aoife, Peter, Adam," the girl contributes softly, almost like a prayer. Though the last three have her looking up, a wry expression on her face. "Rory and Jigano left together. Also to travel. So I'm sure they're galivanting somewhere." Any bitterness in her voice can be excused, she things, given the way the pair of them abandoned their duties and their friends.
