Amalia
'Cause she's just like the weather
Can't hold her together
Born from dark water
Daughter of the r a i n and s n o w
It seems perhaps an ill-thought plan to return so swiftly to the woods, particularly when her last venture met such a fateful end. Yet building bridges is Amalia's goal, and the baker cannot help her determined pride at being invited into such a contingent. What is she to say but yes,, to do but agree to make her mark and try to unite such disparate worlds? There was never a question in the girl's mind, never a moment where she debated her choice.Can't hold her together
Born from dark water
Daughter of the r a i n and s n o w
Barefoot but for the feline pads which protect the bottoms of her feet, Amalia arrives into the group with a bag on her back and the luxere antler staff in her hand. She has laden herself with a variety of wares: rolls and breads, scones and cakes, herby and sweet and plain alike. Also in the pack are tomes, two journals selected for attention to detail, historic recounts of their time within. The tulmhainar will enjoy them, she hopes, though the memories within are not fresh. And perhaps the fae will appreciate the knowledge, and be willing to share some of their history in turn.
Amalia nods a silent greeting, her black eyes drifting between those assembled. She is, again, the only Natural, the only one who was born within to be joining this venture without. Jyoti swims happily by her side, drifting by on invisible airflows, taking time to circle around Remi before darting into Ianto's wagon, a curious song ringing from her lungs. "Sorry," the girl murmurs fondly, "She's incorrigible."
