why else love if not to feel the stars exploding in our veins?
It has been a restless evening since the trip to the Climb, and now as Amalia prepares to head back to the portals she hesitates. There is something else she hasn't done, something she should do, though the wound is raw and aching still, though her heart falters at the thought. Too much has been left unsaid, or said in moments of passion and pain, delirious ramblings a poor excuse for the discourse they so desperately need. If Amalia has learned anything from her time with Ronin and Remi it is that she needs to better speak her truths; and if there is one person on this earth who deserves her honesty, it is him.
So she follows the trail of messages passed on by beast and bird, guiding her to where he is working in the town, chopping wood no doubt for others. It makes her smile despite herself, a crooked, bittersweet expression as she leans against a nearby building, content for a moment to watch. So much has changed for her in such a short time, but her admiration and respect for the behemoth who was once her husband has not faded in the least.
Barefoot and bare-backed despite the cold, Amalia steps forward, toward where the Sword is at work. "Need a hand?" she offers softly, an unsung apology in her alto tone. Jyoti shows no such reservation: she is quick to swim off toward the Sword, eagerly trying to position herself in her customary space beneath his hair.
So she follows the trail of messages passed on by beast and bird, guiding her to where he is working in the town, chopping wood no doubt for others. It makes her smile despite herself, a crooked, bittersweet expression as she leans against a nearby building, content for a moment to watch. So much has changed for her in such a short time, but her admiration and respect for the behemoth who was once her husband has not faded in the least.
Barefoot and bare-backed despite the cold, Amalia steps forward, toward where the Sword is at work. "Need a hand?" she offers softly, an unsung apology in her alto tone. Jyoti shows no such reservation: she is quick to swim off toward the Sword, eagerly trying to position herself in her customary space beneath his hair.
Amalia
