Amalia
Maybe Amalia would not have been disarmed if she'd anticipate the attack. Maybe she still would. It does not particularly matter, in the end. The baker catches her staff easily, taking it defensively between her fists. Now wary, she eyes Roana, at ready to counter an incoming attack. Fortunately the taller woman does not grab her sword, instead opting to swing again with fists. Amalia tenses her stomach against it, jaw clenched, hardening her muscles against the onslaught while swinging back in with her staff, aiming for the already injured shoulder. As she swings she steps away, leaping to narrowly avoid Roana's kick while retaliating with a sweep of her staff up and in toward the woman's knees.
"Who did you try to talk to?" she asks, curious to know who this 'no one' entails, how much action is behind her hot air. Not that Amalia has done much more- but she makes no promises to that effect, does not claim superiority or skill. She is not infringing and apologizing, picking fights while wreathed in self defense. Still, she cannot help but be interested now that Roana is finally telling her things, information instead of thrown out shields, showing that perhaps she does indeed have some potential for growth and change.
"Who did you try to talk to?" she asks, curious to know who this 'no one' entails, how much action is behind her hot air. Not that Amalia has done much more- but she makes no promises to that effect, does not claim superiority or skill. She is not infringing and apologizing, picking fights while wreathed in self defense. Still, she cannot help but be interested now that Roana is finally telling her things, information instead of thrown out shields, showing that perhaps she does indeed have some potential for growth and change.
