Amalia
None of this makes sense. Roana continues to spout some nonsense about offering herself as tribute, as though Amalia asked to hit her, as though the girl has ever expressed a desire for violence toward the woman. "You think if I beat you up I won't be angry?" That isn't how it works. Mistakes are not absolved through violence; Amalia cannot strike the past away.
But oh, how she would like to. Roana tumbles to her knees, and Amalia watches with intensifying anger, still perturbed by the soldier's unwillingness to so much as defend. Her frown is a snarl, weary and inflamed. "I. Do. Not. Want. Anything. From. You." Each word is punctuated with a prod on the shoulder, gentle but firm from the end of her staff, butting on the already struck limb. "You are the one who approached me. I never - never - wanted anything to do with you. I still don't." Is this what it is like for Delah, having her push and push and push, insist on a bridge that the warchief does not wish to build? If so, it is exhausting- and perhaps Amalia can begin to understand the Fae a little more.
But oh, how she would like to. Roana tumbles to her knees, and Amalia watches with intensifying anger, still perturbed by the soldier's unwillingness to so much as defend. Her frown is a snarl, weary and inflamed. "I. Do. Not. Want. Anything. From. You." Each word is punctuated with a prod on the shoulder, gentle but firm from the end of her staff, butting on the already struck limb. "You are the one who approached me. I never - never - wanted anything to do with you. I still don't." Is this what it is like for Delah, having her push and push and push, insist on a bridge that the warchief does not wish to build? If so, it is exhausting- and perhaps Amalia can begin to understand the Fae a little more.
