Amalia
only lonely hid the morning from the stars
✩
They all agree to stay a while, to watch the rising sun. Her heart fills with something warm and happy as she looks upon her assembled friends, truly at peace for the first time in days. Deimos' wind-chime is another show of thoughtful creativity which truly should not surprise her anymore: how many times has she seen beauty and purpose behind the behemoth, a talent for art and wonder and joy in the man she calls her own? Once he hangs the offering she steps in and takes his hand, adoration in her dark eyes, her fingers lacing against his. Wordlessly the girl leans against him, letting her body speak her gratitude, the depth of his appreciation that the man is here. Thank you, her skin whispers on his; I love you, her ardent gaze declares.
There is only one thing left for the girl, but before she can take her final step the air begins to change. Not shimmering, not strengthening, but fluttering, almost, like torn fabric tossed out by the wind, starlit and see-through, a heart-wrenching shade of the goddess Amalia has come to love. The baker's stomach clenches with both joy and misery at the sight; kneeling, reverent, she bows her head as Safrin speaks to Ronin, the three celestials still dancing around her. Far less shy, Jyoti is quick to find a place on Safrin's shoulder, swimming adoringly around the goddess, whalesong and starlight in her wake.
It is not until the deity turns her attention to Amalia that the baker raises up her face, black eyes warm and reverent and adoring as they gaze upon the being who, though diminished, still burns brightly in her heart. And though her hands are on her face, though her voice is sweet and kind, there is something there that hurts the girl, slices deep into her core. Beneath the smile a sadness lurks, and Amalia cannot bear to see it upon this most radiant of beings.
"Why?" she murmurs in reply, genuinely confused. "I would do anything for you." Raising her hands before the goddess, Amalia watches as the trio of small stars fill them, their light twinkling silver against her palms. "He gave me these, for you. To nourish and care for, as you get better."
There is only one thing left for the girl, but before she can take her final step the air begins to change. Not shimmering, not strengthening, but fluttering, almost, like torn fabric tossed out by the wind, starlit and see-through, a heart-wrenching shade of the goddess Amalia has come to love. The baker's stomach clenches with both joy and misery at the sight; kneeling, reverent, she bows her head as Safrin speaks to Ronin, the three celestials still dancing around her. Far less shy, Jyoti is quick to find a place on Safrin's shoulder, swimming adoringly around the goddess, whalesong and starlight in her wake.
It is not until the deity turns her attention to Amalia that the baker raises up her face, black eyes warm and reverent and adoring as they gaze upon the being who, though diminished, still burns brightly in her heart. And though her hands are on her face, though her voice is sweet and kind, there is something there that hurts the girl, slices deep into her core. Beneath the smile a sadness lurks, and Amalia cannot bear to see it upon this most radiant of beings.
"Why?" she murmurs in reply, genuinely confused. "I would do anything for you." Raising her hands before the goddess, Amalia watches as the trio of small stars fill them, their light twinkling silver against her palms. "He gave me these, for you. To nourish and care for, as you get better."
