AMALiA
She raises an eyebrow at the transition from obstacle course to basic runaround, keeping pace as he leaves the more difficult track behind. Don't go easy on my account, the girl teases silently, her bare feet striking on the well-worn ground in time with the Star's. It feels good to be moving like this, taking in the crisp Leafchange air and focusing only on moving forward at a swift and steady speed.I told them I needed exercise. Amalia would shrug except that her arms are pumping at her sides, her shoulders already bobbing in a one-two rhythm. Or I would have. If anybody asked. By and large the Shield has been left to her own devices, a handful of meetings the day before notwithstanding.
She wonders if he's still angry with her- and then, remarkably, lets it go. If he is he has the right, but it will do neither of them good for her to dwell on it, and Amalia thinks too much. She's here to try and stop thinking, to let her body lead her and serve him as a friend. A glance is thrown to the Dark Star, an eyebrow raised in challenge before the mental call. Race you a lap- and before he has a chance to respond a single wing presses out, trying to shove him aside (or at least cause him to stumble) so the Shield can get a much-needed head start.
the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
