Shield Meet Crown

Amalia had not expected to be sought out, though she supposes that all thing considered it is not a great surprise. She has been busy, after all, uncharacteristically so: between the downfall of the Spire and her actions at the notice board it is no great shock that the tyrant queen would want to see her, if only to force her into submission, make her kneel and cow. Still, she is taken aback when the shadows speak as she leaves the Temple at twilight, her crimson staff clenched in her hand, a cloak around her shoulders. Curiosity flutters over her expressive features, quickly followed by a quiet dismay as recognition is brought up by a series of memories and Zariah comes into view. Why is she here? What does she want? Anger flares briefly in her veins, a white hot heat as she clenches her toes. It is only Jyoti which holds her back, the little whale cooing soothingly, wrapping herself on her soulmate's shoulders like a starlit scarf against the dark. Breathe. Breathe. Steadily the baker regains her composure, though her heart still hammers in her chest. Now that the panic is sinking down, the gilded girl is left rather bewildered, her dark eyes searching brazenly into Zariah's face for some sign of what the woman wants, why she has sought and stalked her here. Is she meant to bow? To curtsy? To fight? To flee? Will the woman attempt to kill her on sight, or is this some sort of trial, a ploy, a game? And what the hell did she call her - Shield of Safrin? What does that mean? Swallowing, the girl does the only thing she can - remains relatively silent, her face a troubled mask. "We've met." Twice, in fact, though Zariah likely will not remember, as the first time had been as they watched the spire monster die, and the second she had been in leopard form the whole time. Amalia Her eyes, they know too much. She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.