Amalia
"It's alright," Amalia murmurs. "I'd just gotten into bed." She leans back as the girl sits forward, the light of starwhales and luxere antlers casting cold luminescence through the shop. Through the faint glow the baker can make out a bit of darkness at the edges of her eyes, something too large to be a shadow, too deep to be a cut.
The question about her own well-being catches Amalia by surprise. She blinks, her injury momentarily forgotten, and looks down at her hip. "Just a burn. We went to investigate another storm. It's healing well." Vervain had spun welcome magic on it, though the ache and scarring still remain. "We found a girl in it. The one who brought Ronin back from the dead."
Now it is her turn for question. Gentle fingers skate over the Harpy's cheek, a question in her onyx eyes. "You look a little worse for wear." She tries to keep her tone light, but the concern is genuine. Pushing herself up with her hands, Amalia rises to her feet, wincing as weight makes her hurt leg throb. "Tell me about it over a midnight snack?"
The question about her own well-being catches Amalia by surprise. She blinks, her injury momentarily forgotten, and looks down at her hip. "Just a burn. We went to investigate another storm. It's healing well." Vervain had spun welcome magic on it, though the ache and scarring still remain. "We found a girl in it. The one who brought Ronin back from the dead."
Now it is her turn for question. Gentle fingers skate over the Harpy's cheek, a question in her onyx eyes. "You look a little worse for wear." She tries to keep her tone light, but the concern is genuine. Pushing herself up with her hands, Amalia rises to her feet, wincing as weight makes her hurt leg throb. "Tell me about it over a midnight snack?"
