and all this devotion was rushing over me
The hand extended, the warm smile, the offer of aid- it feels too much like something Amalia wants and needs, but doesn't dare let herself deserve. Her sins are hers, after all, and as kind as Falke's expression may be the Angel cannot help but remember every other reaction to her confessions about the Ascended.
So she draws back in on herself, away from the Fixer's hand, already shaking her head. "No, I... that's okay," the girl murmurs, rising up and collecting her books. "I need to go, anyway- I have more research to do, and training this afternoon...." Weak excuses, but she's simply not ready to open up, not like this.
But gods, she needs it.
She takes a step away from the table, hesitates, and glances back. "Maybe another time," the girl says softly, before ducking out of the Collegium and back towards her own rooms.
{fin}
So she draws back in on herself, away from the Fixer's hand, already shaking her head. "No, I... that's okay," the girl murmurs, rising up and collecting her books. "I need to go, anyway- I have more research to do, and training this afternoon...." Weak excuses, but she's simply not ready to open up, not like this.
But gods, she needs it.
She takes a step away from the table, hesitates, and glances back. "Maybe another time," the girl says softly, before ducking out of the Collegium and back towards her own rooms.
{fin}
Amalia
