Amalia
stop thinking so much
She prays for everyone she loves.
Slipping lightly from her chair, Amalia walks to the west side of the room, swallowing down the apprehension of performing this most sacred adulation in the gaze of someone else. Lightly she settles onto the floor, cross-legged, breathing softly, drowning anxiety in pious reflection, letting her mind drop like a stone into a meditative state. "Vi," she murmurs, "Thank you for this and every day that we are blessed with the gift of life. Lend us your herald, Safrin, that her stars might guide our sleep. Mort, as the sun falls behind the horizon once more, keep the darkness at bay. Lend us your herald, Ludo, that it might guard our souls through the night. Rae, bring us another tomorrow soon, and with it another opportunity to excel. Lend us our herald, Frey, that they might make the world bloom. Caido, in your name, we thank you for today, tomorrow, yesterday, and all."
There are more things, unsaid things, but these are the words of the classic praise, a prayer she has known since she was a girl, simple wishes for a pious life. Already Amalia feels calmer, soothed by the sanctity of routine, the knowledge that wherever she may be her Gods are with her, and she with them. Exhaling, the baker opens dark eyes, blinking a moment before glancing over to see where Deimos is, a slight smile on her angular face as she rises lightly from the floor. "Okay. Done."
you're breaking your own heart
