Amalia
she was afraid of heights
Surprisingly Delah acquiesces, though not without her usual disapproval, clearly unimpressed with Amalia's readiness for this venture. "Thank you," the girl softly replies, turning around to dispense the masks, her fingers lingering briefly on Deimos' before she dons her own.
She reaches the bottom of the stairwell first, curling her nose against the noxious gas. The way is blocked, and Amalia is about to announce as much when a commotion makes her spin around, just in time to see Ronin fall, careening down the staircase as the ground gives way. "Ronin!-" she exclaims, reaching out, her voice muffled from behind the earthen mask. Kneeling down beside the man she presses a hand to his shoulder gently, trying to steady him, her scarf already in her hand as she tries to staunch the bleeding.
It is the surprising arrival of Vervain which draws her eyes up. Amalia has not seen the witch since the night she died, and something clenches in her gut as those memories rise back up. But the woman had been competent then, and so she is now, taking Ronin's weapon and mask and sending him back up the stairs. The baker frowns, sad to lose her friend but glad to see him safe, nodding to Vervain briefly before turning back to see what progress has been made on their route. The Fae and Deimos are working together, removing and strengthening beams. For a moment Amaila considers shifting and slipping through the cracks, her owl form likely small enough to squeeze through, but that would mean dropping her staff, and she does not want to do so. Instead she shifts her eyes, ears, and nose, taking on the leopard's qualities to better see through the musky light, hear any impending danger, smell the rising gas. Then she moves to slip through the opening, should one have been made, her slight form easing among the rocks and coming out on the other side.
Amalia makes sure Ronin's ok before going through the hole the Fae/Deimos have presumably made.
She reaches the bottom of the stairwell first, curling her nose against the noxious gas. The way is blocked, and Amalia is about to announce as much when a commotion makes her spin around, just in time to see Ronin fall, careening down the staircase as the ground gives way. "Ronin!-" she exclaims, reaching out, her voice muffled from behind the earthen mask. Kneeling down beside the man she presses a hand to his shoulder gently, trying to steady him, her scarf already in her hand as she tries to staunch the bleeding.
It is the surprising arrival of Vervain which draws her eyes up. Amalia has not seen the witch since the night she died, and something clenches in her gut as those memories rise back up. But the woman had been competent then, and so she is now, taking Ronin's weapon and mask and sending him back up the stairs. The baker frowns, sad to lose her friend but glad to see him safe, nodding to Vervain briefly before turning back to see what progress has been made on their route. The Fae and Deimos are working together, removing and strengthening beams. For a moment Amaila considers shifting and slipping through the cracks, her owl form likely small enough to squeeze through, but that would mean dropping her staff, and she does not want to do so. Instead she shifts her eyes, ears, and nose, taking on the leopard's qualities to better see through the musky light, hear any impending danger, smell the rising gas. Then she moves to slip through the opening, should one have been made, her slight form easing among the rocks and coming out on the other side.
Amalia makes sure Ronin's ok before going through the hole the Fae/Deimos have presumably made.
but she was much more afraid
of never flying
