Amalia
the archangel
She nods at Cian's assessment of Finn, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of her lip. "I know," she agrees softly, the halo casting stark shadows over her angled cheeks. "But we're... friends, I think. And I can help with the things he might find less comfortable." Like talking to others, or disseminating information. A liaison, of sorts. She shrugs.
Her jaw tenses at the mention of the Grounds being lost, though her anger is not for the Eye. It still hurts to think of her one-time home as a bastion for sin, and the spiny vines that creep through her hair do nothing to hide Amalia's frustration. "Places may be lost, but not people," the Angel counters, a stubborn edge to her tone. "Not all Abandoned side with the Voice, and if they knew what we do - about the Voice, the Core, the sickness, all of it--"
She breaks off, taking a breath and shaking her head. "With a war to come, the people of Caido deserve to know the truth. Vi asked me to protect them, but how can we protect them if they aren't aware what the danger is?"
Her jaw tenses at the mention of the Grounds being lost, though her anger is not for the Eye. It still hurts to think of her one-time home as a bastion for sin, and the spiny vines that creep through her hair do nothing to hide Amalia's frustration. "Places may be lost, but not people," the Angel counters, a stubborn edge to her tone. "Not all Abandoned side with the Voice, and if they knew what we do - about the Voice, the Core, the sickness, all of it--"
She breaks off, taking a breath and shaking her head. "With a war to come, the people of Caido deserve to know the truth. Vi asked me to protect them, but how can we protect them if they aren't aware what the danger is?"
we drink the poison our mind pours for us
and wonder why we feel so sick
and wonder why we feel so sick
