AMALIA
On starlit wings the girl approaches, flying down to the gathering with Jyoti in her wake.She has heard whispers of this strange competition: Greatwood Guardian, Cloister of Trials, things she normally would not be interested in, tests of strength and dignity, fighting in an arena for some undefined glory. Amalia is not a fighter, a warrior, a wielder of weapons or magic or skill.
But she is purposeless, lost in a world that makes increasingly less sense, looking for somewhere to place her reverence, a cause to commit to. And this- this seems as good a cause as any, a reason to pursue.
Landing lightly on the ground, Amalia shifts to human form, taking on legs and skin and fingers and plucking a slice of charcoal from the table. She glances at Delah and Arduinna, wondering if the warchief will send her away, laugh at her after her ineffectual actions in the Spire (her attempt at indifference is entirely thwarted by Jyoti's friendly cooing to the smaller girl). So many of the titles added are familiar, people she knows and loves. With sharp letters she adds her name:
Amalia Chandrakant.
You are flesh and blood
And you deserve to be loved
and you deserve what you are given
And oh, how much
And you deserve to be loved
and you deserve what you are given
And oh, how much
