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 "Good," is all she says in reply to Kiada's refusal to let Deimos back in, nodding to show that she bears no ill will toward the girl. Indeed, she is grateful- after a point there was nothing any of them could do, and to risk one other would have been too much, too much, too much for her to bear. Her heart breaking a little at the mention of Safrin, Amalia swallows down a new lump of bile. "She heard you. She told me so, before..." Before she fell, she does not conclude. It is still too painful to look at, to think. Slipping her hand into the behemoth's, the girl once more closes her head and sighs. The world is spinning a little already. She does not think she can bear for it to crumble any more. A landshark, a unicorn, a tulmhainar, the Spire. What a mistifying day it has been for them all. At last leaning away from Deimos, Amalia looks back at her cup, surprised to find it empty. She can feel it burning in her belly, dulling the ache of fear and loss. It takes her a moment to hear his question, but when it does get through the fog of her mind the baker glances up with a vivid blink. "See her?" she repeats, as though this was the strangest and most wonderful thing she has heard today. "It's- she's- here?" Rising unsteadily to her feet, one hand reaching up to steady Isuma, the gilded girl looks around. "How big is she? She can come inside- did you really leave her out there?" But she isn't judging, isn't angry: it is something close to laughter in her voice, almost happy, almost relieved. Almost. Grabbing hold of Deimos' hand, Amalia makes a beeline for the front door of the shop, ready to throw it open and meet the newest member of their little family, prepared to offer it all the love in her fractured heart, just as she does for everyone else. 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