Amalia
stop thinking so much
His offer to show her the ocean breaks her from her haze of her wanton thoughts, bringing her back to the present, the future, the things she wants to do and see. He offers to take her to see the ocean, and Amalia blooms with curious delight, turning back to him, her eyes bright with excitement. "There's a map from Safrin's library - it showed the ocean, and mountains, and the rest of the world." Her gaze is starlit, wide and wild. "I want to see it all."
She follows him as he clears the counter, laying down some flour on which to roll the dough. A bottle makes a good enough rolling pin, and as she works quietly for a moment, pondering his question about her mother. "No... she was a medic. Abandoned. My grandmother was the baker." Her shoulders roll in a shrug, thoughtful as she continues to stretch out the pastry dough. "My mother... she taught me a little about medicine, and fighting, and how to read and write." Rishima had believed in sciences and facts, while Amalia leaned more toward the mystic, the greater wonders of the world.
Deimos' tale leaves her silent, her attention rapt upon him as he speaks. It is a strange and expansive tale: he was a king, Rexanna (Rexanna?) a Thief, and Kiada a child of spitfires and mountains. The girl pauses in her work, her head tilted as she listens and takes in, mulling over the things he says, the world he paints with his words. And he died- and Amalia's heart clenches in her throat, her hand reaching out in gentle empathy, fingers trying to lace into his, to offer comfort for his strange misadventure. "Is that why you wanted to learn about reincarnation?"
you're breaking your own heart
