we cannot become what we want to be by remaining what we are
Amalia listens and feels her heart stop beating in her chest. Every word is a deafening echo pounding against the doors that hold back the floodgate of emotions, so easily let loose; and yet she holds against the onslaught even as she creaks and groans within. Of all the terrors she expected, none equate to this; of all the wonders she has witnessed, none is even close to equal.
The words of others are hollow echoes, half-heard beneath the drumming of what she has just learned. Questions and wonderings and plans and theories, but none of them matter to the Shield. They're alive, claws at her throat and her mind and her heart, electrifies her blood and hurts her. They're alive they're alive they're alive they're alive---
She rises mechanically, without much thought. Her mouth opens and the words that come out are surprisingly steady, though they sound distant in her ears, as though they were being spoken through water from a million miles away. "Edrei is a fighter. Abandoned. Queen of the Gounds, briefly. She nearly killed me once. She died to a land shark.
"Isla is a medic. Ascended when she died the first time. Ludo put her soul in a unicorn, and she died again.
"Maea is... smart. Abandoned. I knew her since we were girls. She drowned.
"Peter was a spy. A... hybrid, I think. He died... to a dragon. I was there."
There are tears in her eyes, but she won't let them fall. She swallows, knowing the next two will hurt the most.
"Adam Pikely... was a thief. And a scoundrel. And a good man. Attuned. He... died to the same dragon as Peter." The memories threaten to crash over her like a tsunami, and it's only through force of will that she keeps them at bay. Nails lengthened to claws press deep against her palms, enough to leave angry furrows that will soon lead to blood. Eyes closed, she forces her way through the last of the report. "Kiada Njovu-Reyes was a warrior. The brightest, most brilliant survivor I've ever known. She was Attuned, and she died saving Tanau." And I let her fall.
She doesn't know the other names or who they attach to, nor does she care. The final name breaks whatever fragile strength has kept her together thus far; as mechanically as she rose Amalia turns, her voice breaking as her vision narrows on the exit from the room. "I'm- I'm sorry. I need to leave," the Archangel mumbles to nobody in particular.
And then, unless anyone tries to stop her, the girl in grief is gone.
The words of others are hollow echoes, half-heard beneath the drumming of what she has just learned. Questions and wonderings and plans and theories, but none of them matter to the Shield. They're alive, claws at her throat and her mind and her heart, electrifies her blood and hurts her. They're alive they're alive they're alive they're alive---
She rises mechanically, without much thought. Her mouth opens and the words that come out are surprisingly steady, though they sound distant in her ears, as though they were being spoken through water from a million miles away. "Edrei is a fighter. Abandoned. Queen of the Gounds, briefly. She nearly killed me once. She died to a land shark.
"Isla is a medic. Ascended when she died the first time. Ludo put her soul in a unicorn, and she died again.
"Maea is... smart. Abandoned. I knew her since we were girls. She drowned.
"Peter was a spy. A... hybrid, I think. He died... to a dragon. I was there."
There are tears in her eyes, but she won't let them fall. She swallows, knowing the next two will hurt the most.
"Adam Pikely... was a thief. And a scoundrel. And a good man. Attuned. He... died to the same dragon as Peter." The memories threaten to crash over her like a tsunami, and it's only through force of will that she keeps them at bay. Nails lengthened to claws press deep against her palms, enough to leave angry furrows that will soon lead to blood. Eyes closed, she forces her way through the last of the report. "Kiada Njovu-Reyes was a warrior. The brightest, most brilliant survivor I've ever known. She was Attuned, and she died saving Tanau." And I let her fall.
She doesn't know the other names or who they attach to, nor does she care. The final name breaks whatever fragile strength has kept her together thus far; as mechanically as she rose Amalia turns, her voice breaking as her vision narrows on the exit from the room. "I'm- I'm sorry. I need to leave," the Archangel mumbles to nobody in particular.
And then, unless anyone tries to stop her, the girl in grief is gone.
Amalia
