Amalia
A deeper conversation is all I want from you-
She lets the silence stretch a minute, her arms still wrapped around him, her fingers coiled up in his, her head on his back as she listens to him breathe, steady and constant and unperturbed. Dark eyes flutter closed; she lets the sounds of the garden wash over her, finds solace in them, in nature, in him. How he continues to never judge awes and infatuates the girl, makes her stomach drop out and her throat run dry and color blaze upon her cheeks. Is this what it is, to be accepted?To be loved?
"Barbarians, hmm?" Her hand traces slowly over his chest as she chuckles a little, her laugh a low hum. "Is that what you are? A barbarian knight? It explains the beard." Her hands go up to play with the offending mane as she speaks, twining longer strands into braids. Exhaling heavily, Amalia eases away, her fingers lingering on his skin as she winds her way around to face him, hands traveling down his arms until their fingers meet. Lingering there a moment, safe in his embrace, the baker gazes at the reaper, her dark eyes expressive and subdued.
Releasing his hands at last, Amalia steps further away, lowering herself to sit in the grass, the shield still resting in her hands. "Maybe you can show me?" Almost shyly, almost bashful: show me everything. Show me it all. As much as it scares her, she wants all he is. If he will accept her weakness, she will accept his strength.
- I want the words you're afraid to say:
the lonely ones you keep hidden
between the folds of your heart
