wash away our sore eyed souls

YOU SAID THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON IT ROSE TOO SOON AND WE'RE DOING WHAT WE SHOULD Their reassurances do not good. Distantly, Amalia is appreciative, understanding of what they are trying to do. But it is a kindness she does not deserve or need, misplaced pity and powerless platitudes. Frowning down into her drink, the devastated baker simply sighs, shaking her head unhappily before taking another painful sip. It is what she deserves, this burning ache, to lose herself in the well of liquid, her mind and mentality set aside. Their reassurances swim in her head, electric eels searing her with every syllable, every word. 'It is not your fault' (except it is), 'We all had to try' (except they didn't), 'Safrin will be back' (but what if she's not?), 'Deimos has a unicorn' (but- wait now, what?) This, at last, makes Amalia blink, her head snapping up to stare at Kiada, brain spinning slightly from the liquor's effect. "What?" she asks, not sure she heard right, blinking rapidly between the pair. Unicorn - landshark - exposed bone... turning to face the man by her side, Amalia's face is flushed with concern. "Are you okay?" the girl demands, her despondency momentarily forgotten as she reaches out with tender hands to grab her lover's arms. "Why didn't you say anything? When did it happen? Where's the unicorn now?" A barrage of questions flies from her lips, the liquor loosening them dramatically. Her eyes stay on him, hands traveling up his arms, not terribly concerned about the other watching as she searches for other signs of wounds. And when at last she is satisfied the girl shuts her eyes, letting her head fall to his chest before exhaling a deep sigh. "Gods, if I lost you - if I lost any of you -" She trails off, glancing back at Jigano and Kiada, unspoken passion in her voice. This is why she is a fool: because she keeps putting those she loves in danger, then losing hope when they are lost. It was her fault they wound up in this situation; it is her fault Deimos was further hurt; it is her fault Safrin might be gone forever; it is her fault, her fault, her fault. Leaning her head on Deimos' chest, Amalia forces herself not to cry. a m a l i a You said it's life that moves too much We're losing touch But I'm not losing you