even when i was a child
i’ve always known there was something to be frightened of
i’ve always known there was something to be frightened of
"What don't I understand, Sam?" Bare feet touch down on the sand; the wings remain boldly outstretched as Amalia stares back at her brother, dark eyes hard and unforgiving in their rage. A rage which masks something more, something vulnerable and sad - because once, Amalia had believed that she and Sam could be, if not friends, then family, real family.
But Sam had chosen his side once and for all, and the divide between the siblings that had once nearly mended now stretches endless and sharp and dark.
She doesn't advance, but neither does she stand down or show any sign of intending to let him leave. When she speaks again her voice is soft, almost gentle, the tone one might use with a confused child. "You killed someone, Sam. What more is there to understand? You went back to your goddess, and you lost control, and now someone is dead."
But Sam had chosen his side once and for all, and the divide between the siblings that had once nearly mended now stretches endless and sharp and dark.
She doesn't advance, but neither does she stand down or show any sign of intending to let him leave. When she speaks again her voice is soft, almost gentle, the tone one might use with a confused child. "You killed someone, Sam. What more is there to understand? You went back to your goddess, and you lost control, and now someone is dead."
