Amalia
the shield of safrin
she does not know what it's like
not to have deep emotions
not to have deep emotions
Trinity Temple.
Since her arrival in Stormbreak not so long before, Amalia has been told to visit the Temple. Since before, even- and to be sure, the Shield has wanted to. But busy as she's been kept by tasks from the Order, and anxious as she is to face more questions about her own uncertain role, the girl has skirted around the structure, fascinated yet hesitant, awed and overwhelmed.
She chooses a time when there are no services to slip between the imposing doors, swallowing down a gasp that surges immediately to her throat. The temple is beautiful, more than she could imagine. It makes the one she loves so dearly back in her homeland look pale and small, a caricature compared to the masterpiece the architects of Stormbreak have composed.
Dark eyes glitter with adoration and wonder as she begins to wander through the pews, bare feet padding softly on the dusty stone. Frequently Amalia pauses to admire a detail or work of art. It isn't until she reaches a statue of Safrin that the girl truly stops, reaching out with hesitant fingers as though to brush them over the smooth cheek of her goddess' facsimile, rapt and passionate ardor blooming into a crown of white and violet flowers, stark against her golden hair.
Since her arrival in Stormbreak not so long before, Amalia has been told to visit the Temple. Since before, even- and to be sure, the Shield has wanted to. But busy as she's been kept by tasks from the Order, and anxious as she is to face more questions about her own uncertain role, the girl has skirted around the structure, fascinated yet hesitant, awed and overwhelmed.
She chooses a time when there are no services to slip between the imposing doors, swallowing down a gasp that surges immediately to her throat. The temple is beautiful, more than she could imagine. It makes the one she loves so dearly back in her homeland look pale and small, a caricature compared to the masterpiece the architects of Stormbreak have composed.
Dark eyes glitter with adoration and wonder as she begins to wander through the pews, bare feet padding softly on the dusty stone. Frequently Amalia pauses to admire a detail or work of art. It isn't until she reaches a statue of Safrin that the girl truly stops, reaching out with hesitant fingers as though to brush them over the smooth cheek of her goddess' facsimile, rapt and passionate ardor blooming into a crown of white and violet flowers, stark against her golden hair.
even when she feels nothing
she feels it completely
she feels it completely
