AMALIA
She wants the silence but fears the solitude
She wants to be alone and together with you
Born from dark water, daughter of the rain and snowAmalia finds him by the scent of blood.
Delayed on the way home, she fell apart from Remi and Ianto, into her own world. The pair seemed close, talkative, friendly, and the baker cannot help the way she is endlessly out of place. Even Phoebe belonged among them, Outlander as she is.
For once her anxiety is a fortunate thing, for it causes them to fall behind. Leopard-skinned with Jyoti at her side, the feline thinks the trek shall be uneventful. She does not expect the smell of blood, iron-tinged and acrid in the air; she does not expect the whale to startle, crying out a terrible sound. Amalia is cautious, but she is brave: and so she sets off at a lope, following the trail of Jyoti's starlight, the stench of fallen blood.
She does not have far to go. There is Remi: good Remi, sweet Remi, coated in blood, fallen to the ground, but not alone. Beside him stands a woman, vaguely familiar but not quite. She has seen her before, the leopardess knows, on some other day that does not matter now. Remi! Amalia calls through her mind, mildly panicked, terribly afraid, her thoughts consumed by the broken man. It is only Jyoti's starlight which calms her, levels her head enough to approach on hurried feet with extended nose, investigating the man. She does not trust this dark woman; her ears flatten as she glances at her, before turning back to her friend. What happened? Where is Ianto?
Delayed on the way home, she fell apart from Remi and Ianto, into her own world. The pair seemed close, talkative, friendly, and the baker cannot help the way she is endlessly out of place. Even Phoebe belonged among them, Outlander as she is.
For once her anxiety is a fortunate thing, for it causes them to fall behind. Leopard-skinned with Jyoti at her side, the feline thinks the trek shall be uneventful. She does not expect the smell of blood, iron-tinged and acrid in the air; she does not expect the whale to startle, crying out a terrible sound. Amalia is cautious, but she is brave: and so she sets off at a lope, following the trail of Jyoti's starlight, the stench of fallen blood.
She does not have far to go. There is Remi: good Remi, sweet Remi, coated in blood, fallen to the ground, but not alone. Beside him stands a woman, vaguely familiar but not quite. She has seen her before, the leopardess knows, on some other day that does not matter now. Remi! Amalia calls through her mind, mildly panicked, terribly afraid, her thoughts consumed by the broken man. It is only Jyoti's starlight which calms her, levels her head enough to approach on hurried feet with extended nose, investigating the man. She does not trust this dark woman; her ears flatten as she glances at her, before turning back to her friend. What happened? Where is Ianto?
