Amalia
The baker cannot help her rapt fascination as Phoebe spins her tale, her eyes and attention utterly transfixed by the idea of tiny cells, whatever those are, invisible to the human eye. It all seems rather far-fetched to her, incomprehensible words for a concept she has never begun to understand, never considered beginning to understand. "And these tiny... cells... are responsible for the blight?" It isn't that she doubts the midwife - if Frey has said it, it must be true.
More that... well, the idea is still utterly bizarre. It takes time for science to begin to make sense, after all.
She kneels down beside Phoebe as the girl spots another plant, reaching back into her pack to grab the gloves. Carefully Amalia grabs the blighted specimen, making sure not to touch it with skin, even limiting her contact through the glove. Plucking a leaf off, she turns toward Phoebe, depositing it in the midwife's container before rising up again. "How many more?"
More that... well, the idea is still utterly bizarre. It takes time for science to begin to make sense, after all.
She kneels down beside Phoebe as the girl spots another plant, reaching back into her pack to grab the gloves. Carefully Amalia grabs the blighted specimen, making sure not to touch it with skin, even limiting her contact through the glove. Plucking a leaf off, she turns toward Phoebe, depositing it in the midwife's container before rising up again. "How many more?"
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
