(Open) Paws upon the Stones of Many Colors

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help "I never knew a priest who needed special clothing to prove their piety to the Gods," Amalia replies with a shrug, mischief sparkling in her dark eyes. "He arrived ten minutes ago. You've had your whole life to learn how to dress yourself, and yet." Big words coming from a woman with no sense of fashion, dressed in clothes more likely inherited than intentionally bought, but she isn't trying to present herself as a paragon of style. The conversation winding down, Amalia nods at the suggestion that there are other tasks to do, gnawing gently on her lip. "Okay. I live up on Aumakua if you need anything," the Shield offers warmly, tilting her head towards the lighthouse on the hill. "I hope you have no trouble settling in, but if you do... well. Good luck, Neos." With that she will spread her wings, taking to the relative safety of the sky and making her way back home. {fin!} a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine