Amalia
she was afraid of heights
For a moment, it seems that things will go right. Deimos is the first to voice his agreement, seconding her thoughts on who should leave. Jigano, too, supports her, and it is enough to elicit a warm smile of gratitude, happy to know he has her back. But then there is Wessex, and Amalia's stomach does a little flip at the woman's careful tone, not quite able to meet her eyes after what happened at the cataracts. Wise, worldly, she raises good points, issues that the girl did not think of, was too young and stupid and naive and impulsive to even stop and consider.
Then the back and forth begins, Remi and Wessex, Wessex and Kiada, not quite raised voices but certainly dissent. Of course there was - they couldn't do something like this without it - but still Amalia shrinks against it, clutching tighter at her mug, listening and trying to think of what to do. Part of her wonders if she ought to moderate, to stand up and contribute... but what to say? She has given all of her ideas, and they are not enough. She tries to catch Rory's eye, to see what he thinks of all that has happened, if he will accept the burden she has offered. It is not a weight he should have to bear, but she truly believes he is the best to bear it.
He and Ronin, the bright half-man.
And when Rory finally speaks her blood runs cold, shock freezing her in place, tensing her muscles into knots. Black eyes turn beseechingly on him - you're what?! - trying to find his motive, his reason, the thing that would compel him to cave. No, she wants to scream, to whisper, to say with glances and hands and face. No, you're not, I won't allow it-
But who is she, at the end of the day, to tell anyone what they can and cannot do?
Then Jigano speaks up, and though the girl listens, her eyes do not leave the gilded hunter, haunted and fiery and wanting to understand. Doesn't he hate this as much as her, being held beneath a thumb? Doesn't he want to fight it, to buck and evade and give it all back, to build a world that's better than tyrannical rule and vengeance? He, more than anyone, she had trusted to understand. That he doesn't is a slap to the face, a shake in her confidence, a shuddering of her worldview.
Amalia sits back in her chair, sinking into the black hole of her mind.
She should have seen this coming. What else could she have expected, really, but to have her castles crumble, her good intentions dissolve before her eyes? Jigano makes suggestions, and Deimos too, but it doesn't matter because Ronin is leaving, and Remi too, and Amalia watches through shuttered eyes, too closed off to feel the affection, the pulse of fondness from the other attuned. At least her face is stoic, calm, a mask of composure and introspection that hides her tumultuous soul. Those who know her best, perhaps, will be able to see this for what it is, to sense in her silence a fracturing frenzy, a breaking isolation and agony and doubt.
To the rest of the world, though, Amalia seems chill as fuck.
It is Rory who breaks her out of her reverie, his measured voice an anchor in the storm of her discontent. Like one just waking, Amalia blinks, turning back to face the hunter, her brother, her friend. He, more than anyone, is making sense, his reasoning clear and calm. Not that it matters- they have already shown they can accomplish nothing, or so it feels. Nevertheless, the baker begins to nod along, chewing gently on her lip and shifting her hands upon the cup. What are they supposed to do? What will it take to unseat her? Amalia had rather thought they would do the same as she: pick someone to take her place, rally behind them, and that would be that.
It all seemed so simple, only an hour before.
"It's not enough to unseat her," she murmurs, staring intently at her tea. As though there are answers to be found in the dark beverage, if only she looks deeply enough. "We need to make a better world." Sighing heavily, the girl looks older, weighed down by a cloud of anxiety which only grows denser by the day. "There's been good points made. A lot to think about. Maybe... maybe we should leave it here, for tonight, and plan to meet again in a week. And then people can present their ideas of how to proceed. And if anyone does want to lead this thing, they can speak up then. Even if it's just until we find a more permanent solution. If... if we do this, and pull it off, I think we should vote for a leader. Or have a council. So everyone feels more represented." She glances at Wessex, then quickly away.
"Meanwhile I... I think Rory's right. We should keep our heads down. Try not to make her think we're planning anything. Talk to the people you trust and try to see who else is unhappy. Enlist as long as she doesn't try to make you actually fight the fae, because we don't want to lose any chance at goodwill we still have. And because we'll lose."
Then the back and forth begins, Remi and Wessex, Wessex and Kiada, not quite raised voices but certainly dissent. Of course there was - they couldn't do something like this without it - but still Amalia shrinks against it, clutching tighter at her mug, listening and trying to think of what to do. Part of her wonders if she ought to moderate, to stand up and contribute... but what to say? She has given all of her ideas, and they are not enough. She tries to catch Rory's eye, to see what he thinks of all that has happened, if he will accept the burden she has offered. It is not a weight he should have to bear, but she truly believes he is the best to bear it.
He and Ronin, the bright half-man.
And when Rory finally speaks her blood runs cold, shock freezing her in place, tensing her muscles into knots. Black eyes turn beseechingly on him - you're what?! - trying to find his motive, his reason, the thing that would compel him to cave. No, she wants to scream, to whisper, to say with glances and hands and face. No, you're not, I won't allow it-
But who is she, at the end of the day, to tell anyone what they can and cannot do?
Then Jigano speaks up, and though the girl listens, her eyes do not leave the gilded hunter, haunted and fiery and wanting to understand. Doesn't he hate this as much as her, being held beneath a thumb? Doesn't he want to fight it, to buck and evade and give it all back, to build a world that's better than tyrannical rule and vengeance? He, more than anyone, she had trusted to understand. That he doesn't is a slap to the face, a shake in her confidence, a shuddering of her worldview.
Amalia sits back in her chair, sinking into the black hole of her mind.
She should have seen this coming. What else could she have expected, really, but to have her castles crumble, her good intentions dissolve before her eyes? Jigano makes suggestions, and Deimos too, but it doesn't matter because Ronin is leaving, and Remi too, and Amalia watches through shuttered eyes, too closed off to feel the affection, the pulse of fondness from the other attuned. At least her face is stoic, calm, a mask of composure and introspection that hides her tumultuous soul. Those who know her best, perhaps, will be able to see this for what it is, to sense in her silence a fracturing frenzy, a breaking isolation and agony and doubt.
To the rest of the world, though, Amalia seems chill as fuck.
It is Rory who breaks her out of her reverie, his measured voice an anchor in the storm of her discontent. Like one just waking, Amalia blinks, turning back to face the hunter, her brother, her friend. He, more than anyone, is making sense, his reasoning clear and calm. Not that it matters- they have already shown they can accomplish nothing, or so it feels. Nevertheless, the baker begins to nod along, chewing gently on her lip and shifting her hands upon the cup. What are they supposed to do? What will it take to unseat her? Amalia had rather thought they would do the same as she: pick someone to take her place, rally behind them, and that would be that.
It all seemed so simple, only an hour before.
"It's not enough to unseat her," she murmurs, staring intently at her tea. As though there are answers to be found in the dark beverage, if only she looks deeply enough. "We need to make a better world." Sighing heavily, the girl looks older, weighed down by a cloud of anxiety which only grows denser by the day. "There's been good points made. A lot to think about. Maybe... maybe we should leave it here, for tonight, and plan to meet again in a week. And then people can present their ideas of how to proceed. And if anyone does want to lead this thing, they can speak up then. Even if it's just until we find a more permanent solution. If... if we do this, and pull it off, I think we should vote for a leader. Or have a council. So everyone feels more represented." She glances at Wessex, then quickly away.
"Meanwhile I... I think Rory's right. We should keep our heads down. Try not to make her think we're planning anything. Talk to the people you trust and try to see who else is unhappy. Enlist as long as she doesn't try to make you actually fight the fae, because we don't want to lose any chance at goodwill we still have. And because we'll lose."
but she was much more afraid
of never flying
