Amalia
She hates it.
Her grandmother would have tsk'd at the word; her mother would have smirked; but in this moment Amalia embraces it deep within her soul. There is no part of this she does not hate: the speed, the conflict, the deaths, the drama. The world is changing faster than they can breathe, and innocents are caught within the crossfire while the girl stands and waits, hating it for happening, hating herself for being unable to stop it.
One group ascends into the Spire; the other descends down to the dark; and Amalia is left in the wild outside, hateful and frightened and angry and shamed. Should she have stopped them? Should she still? Like a wild thing she paces, prowls, the staff clutched in her white-knuckled hand emitting an eerie glow. Roana she does not care about, the Ascendeds she does not know, but they are people, with footsteps and an impact, and Maea- well, the girls may be far from friendship, but the albino child is a part of her story as surely as any other Natural. Amalia may have felt bitterness at her slights, may have looked at resentment at the bond shared with her mother, but none of that would make her wish the other endanger her life.
Though she still hates her for doing this, for feeding into the foolishness they find themselves in.
"Safrin, please keep them," she murmurs to the sky, though there is no evidence that the Goddess is listening today.
As the last of them vanishes into the dark Amalia stops in her tracks and finds her way to where Jigano stands, staring into the dark. One hand reaches to grab his shoulder: "If it starts to sound bad we'll go in after them," she murmurs, half a promise, half a curse. She does not wish to lower the barrier, but she will not stand aside as others are hurt. She would pull them from darkness if she could- though she hates them for bringing it to this point.
Amalia joins the reserves
Her grandmother would have tsk'd at the word; her mother would have smirked; but in this moment Amalia embraces it deep within her soul. There is no part of this she does not hate: the speed, the conflict, the deaths, the drama. The world is changing faster than they can breathe, and innocents are caught within the crossfire while the girl stands and waits, hating it for happening, hating herself for being unable to stop it.
One group ascends into the Spire; the other descends down to the dark; and Amalia is left in the wild outside, hateful and frightened and angry and shamed. Should she have stopped them? Should she still? Like a wild thing she paces, prowls, the staff clutched in her white-knuckled hand emitting an eerie glow. Roana she does not care about, the Ascendeds she does not know, but they are people, with footsteps and an impact, and Maea- well, the girls may be far from friendship, but the albino child is a part of her story as surely as any other Natural. Amalia may have felt bitterness at her slights, may have looked at resentment at the bond shared with her mother, but none of that would make her wish the other endanger her life.
Though she still hates her for doing this, for feeding into the foolishness they find themselves in.
"Safrin, please keep them," she murmurs to the sky, though there is no evidence that the Goddess is listening today.
As the last of them vanishes into the dark Amalia stops in her tracks and finds her way to where Jigano stands, staring into the dark. One hand reaches to grab his shoulder: "If it starts to sound bad we'll go in after them," she murmurs, half a promise, half a curse. She does not wish to lower the barrier, but she will not stand aside as others are hurt. She would pull them from darkness if she could- though she hates them for bringing it to this point.
Amalia joins the reserves
