everything you want is on the other side of fear
This is not something Amalia does. Kissing for the sake of kissing? And yet as Sera winds her arms around her the Angel finds herself leaning in, basking in the warmth, the humanity of the embrace. It sears out the memory of Adam's cold lips and bloodless hands, replaces one pair of brown eyes with another, one head of black hair with longer, more luxurious locks. Amalia's mouth parts in a soft gasp, the hand on her cheek shifting to tangle gently in that hair. Here in the nest of the Angel's wings and Sera's warmth, the girl thinks maybe she could feel safe.
But, of course, they are not alone. A pointed aherm sends her reeling back to reality. Amalia disengages with the Artificer, looking up to see the flushed bartender standing outside the shelter of her wings, trying not to stare. Compliments of those gentlemen, he mutters, placing down two fresh glasses and scurrying away. Less subtle are the four men who leer from the other side of the bar, raising their glasses as the Angel peeks over from behind her wings.
A blush creeps over Amalia's cheeks and down to her neck, her eyes growing wide as the realization of their audience sinks in. "Sera... people're looking," she whispers urgently, clearly shocked by this development. "What d'we do?"
But, of course, they are not alone. A pointed aherm sends her reeling back to reality. Amalia disengages with the Artificer, looking up to see the flushed bartender standing outside the shelter of her wings, trying not to stare. Compliments of those gentlemen, he mutters, placing down two fresh glasses and scurrying away. Less subtle are the four men who leer from the other side of the bar, raising their glasses as the Angel peeks over from behind her wings.
A blush creeps over Amalia's cheeks and down to her neck, her eyes growing wide as the realization of their audience sinks in. "Sera... people're looking," she whispers urgently, clearly shocked by this development. "What d'we do?"
Amalia
