Amalia;
It is nice to be welcomed, and the friendliness of the collected animals goes a long way toward setting the girl at ease. For her part, Jyoti feels no fear: raised to be a Leviathan of the skies, she is wholly without any prey instincts, something Amalia finds refreshing and terrifying in equal measure. The star calf croons happily at Remi, spinning circles around the lion while Amalia watches, bemused.
The trek up all those winding stairs is painful, and not just physically. Each room is another reminder of her failure, her mistakes. She tries not to look at the fallen creatures, to avoid and skirt around shattered remnants of the one-time jail. And just as she fears she cannot bear it any further, the pack of Attuned breaches the final threshold, making their way into cool night air.
It is a mercy to be beneath the stars; all the girl wants is to wait in silence and enjoy this moment. But the still stillness is broken by a ferocious roar, Remi's strong voice shaking her to her core. Ianto joins in next, and Caiside, and then Jyoti is singing her starlit hymn and all Amalia can do is watch and listen, enraptured by the din, fully taken in by the joy which courses through them all.
Neither of her shifts are singers: Amalia has learned that her feline throat does not work in a way that is particularly pleasant. But she can provide a bass note, and so the leopardess begins to purr, low and steady and melodious, a foundation on which the other celebrants can rise, more than comfortable sitting aside and letting the others shine. As she does she thinks of words, old songs in reverence of the starlit goddess, and hopes her thoughts and hum and prayer are enough for Safrin to feel her love.
The trek up all those winding stairs is painful, and not just physically. Each room is another reminder of her failure, her mistakes. She tries not to look at the fallen creatures, to avoid and skirt around shattered remnants of the one-time jail. And just as she fears she cannot bear it any further, the pack of Attuned breaches the final threshold, making their way into cool night air.
It is a mercy to be beneath the stars; all the girl wants is to wait in silence and enjoy this moment. But the still stillness is broken by a ferocious roar, Remi's strong voice shaking her to her core. Ianto joins in next, and Caiside, and then Jyoti is singing her starlit hymn and all Amalia can do is watch and listen, enraptured by the din, fully taken in by the joy which courses through them all.
Neither of her shifts are singers: Amalia has learned that her feline throat does not work in a way that is particularly pleasant. But she can provide a bass note, and so the leopardess begins to purr, low and steady and melodious, a foundation on which the other celebrants can rise, more than comfortable sitting aside and letting the others shine. As she does she thinks of words, old songs in reverence of the starlit goddess, and hopes her thoughts and hum and prayer are enough for Safrin to feel her love.
dry your smoke-stung eyes
you can see the light
you can see the light
