Amalia
the shield of safrin
Amalia has no knowledge of the strange pain she has caused Finn. All she knows is that there was a blurry time when she thought that they were close, and now she is adrift, uncertain, floating on the whims of her own anxious thoughts. She does not expect the extended hand, stares at it for a moment before sliding her own within: smaller, calloused, with long slender fingers that reach around his palm.
In a fluid movement Amalia stands, releasing her grasp upon Finn's hand to wipe sand from her dress. His answer is a simple one, but it's accurate, one she can believe in and easily stand behind. "It is," the Shield replies softly, looking up at the Spyglass with a slight half-smile coiled at the edge of her mouth. "But that's not enough of a motivator for most people."
Still, she doesn't press it further, instead turning her face toward town. "You know- I still have her. It. The, the guitar. Maybe when all this is over you can teach me a little more."
In a fluid movement Amalia stands, releasing her grasp upon Finn's hand to wipe sand from her dress. His answer is a simple one, but it's accurate, one she can believe in and easily stand behind. "It is," the Shield replies softly, looking up at the Spyglass with a slight half-smile coiled at the edge of her mouth. "But that's not enough of a motivator for most people."
Still, she doesn't press it further, instead turning her face toward town. "You know- I still have her. It. The, the guitar. Maybe when all this is over you can teach me a little more."
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
