Amalia
"Remi. It's going to be okay." Amalia does not know this, of course - she does not know much of anything these days. She does not know if Ronin will be well, or Safrin, or the world itself- but she knows she has to believe it, because he has to believe it. Squeezing the alchemist's hand reassuringly, she peers into his sea-green eyes, ardent and passionate, a promise in her voice. "Vi said that Safrin would heal, so Ronin will, too. And I think... I think the hill sounds like a perfect idea." She does not mention that she simply cannot bear the thought of asking Zariah for anything, especially after what Remi has said. Were it her alone, the girl would walk into the woods without a moment's hesitation, their tyrant queen be damned.But there is more than the girl involved in this quest, and she will not be responsible for more loss, more pain.
She has already made a mistake, though, her uncertainty with Remi's admission causing the boy to further recoil. Biting her lip, Amalia sighs, trying not to sink into herself as anxiety and insecurity claw at her eyes. Stupid, stupid, a terrible friend... She wishes she could vanish, or re-write time, eat her words and be bigger, be better, ever be enough. "When my grandmother died..." Another sigh, shuddering, and the girl closes her eyes. "I told my mother I wish it was different. That it should have been her who was gone. It was... it was one of the last real conversations we had."
Has Amalia ever spoken of this? Probably not- the guilt is too great, a weight on her stomach pulling, pulling, pulling her down, threatening to drown her beneath the abyss. Once, indeed, it almost did. Only weakness and stupidity kept the girl from the brink, an inability to go through with her desire, too unhappy to go on, too small to let it end.
Shaking her head, Amalia sighs, blinking up at Remi through glassy, hard eyes. "We all make mistakes. We all do bad things. It doesn't make us bad people, as long as we do better the next time around."
Then the conversation takes a turn so sharp Amalia nearly falls over in surprise, her dark gaze widening in shock and delight at Remi's admission and smile. "You what?!" she demands, less indignant than incredulous, a grin to match his blooming on her cheeks. Playfully she punches his shoulder, some of the tension leaving her figure, her low, alto laugh filling the shop. "Why didn't you lead with that? When? How? When is the wedding? Vi's beard-"
Still laughing, Amalia throws her arms around him, gratitude and happiness blurring her eyes. In a time when everything feels hopeless it feels like a blessing to get some good news, and the girl clings to it with every fiber of her being, a lifeboat in a turbulent sea. "That's wonderful, Remi," she hums in his ear. "I'm so happy for you."
she was like the moon-
part of her was always hidden away
part of her was always hidden away
