Amalia
It's like Long Night, but all the time. Amalia cannot think of a greater horror; again she shudders, empathy for the girl who stands strong before her rising again in her chest. The Kiada she knows is quiet and impassioned, guarded and intense; the warrior she describes who wears fierce armor and wields flames seems a brighter, more dangerous version, of which the Harpy has become a pale shade. Is it better this way, Amalia wonders, to be subdued rather than run wild? To be a banked housefire, rather than an inferno?
She does not know the answer.
Amalia only interrupts once, when the owl swoops in, willow in its beak. "Chew this," the baker instructs softly, passing it to the wounded girl. "It will help with the pain." To the owl she offers a silent thank-you, pulling out a handful of seed for it to peck off of the counter, reaching down to run her fingers through the feathers on its back.
Finished applying salve to Kiada, the baker returns to working on scones, shaping them silently as the other speaks on. What a life to have lived- Amalia cannot imagine it at all, and suddenly her sheltered experience in the Hollowed Grounds feels very trivial, very small. Life and death, portals and demons, love and loss and loss again. She thinks of how she would feel, losing Deimos. Losing Jyoti.
Losing everything she knows.
The scones in the oven, Amalia returns to Kiada's side just as the girl falls quiet again, turning back to face her. There are no words that the blonde can say, nothing she can voice that means enough- but perhaps she does not have to. Silently, softly, the baker reaches up, slender fingers cupping Kiada's cheek, head leaning forward so their foreheads touch as Amalia shuts her eyes and opens her mind, willing her feelings through the Attuned bond, hoping Kiada can understand. Love, sadness, sympathy, empathy; pride, protection, a solemn vow. You're not alone anymore, and I will always be here for you. You are strong. You are radiant. You have been wounded more than you deserve, and I am so, so sorry.
If the Harpy can be strong through all of that trauma, the very least the Shield can do is carry some of that strength now. And together maybe they can find that fire again- find it and tame it into something productive, a purpose for the lost girl to pursue.
She does not know the answer.
Amalia only interrupts once, when the owl swoops in, willow in its beak. "Chew this," the baker instructs softly, passing it to the wounded girl. "It will help with the pain." To the owl she offers a silent thank-you, pulling out a handful of seed for it to peck off of the counter, reaching down to run her fingers through the feathers on its back.
Finished applying salve to Kiada, the baker returns to working on scones, shaping them silently as the other speaks on. What a life to have lived- Amalia cannot imagine it at all, and suddenly her sheltered experience in the Hollowed Grounds feels very trivial, very small. Life and death, portals and demons, love and loss and loss again. She thinks of how she would feel, losing Deimos. Losing Jyoti.
Losing everything she knows.
The scones in the oven, Amalia returns to Kiada's side just as the girl falls quiet again, turning back to face her. There are no words that the blonde can say, nothing she can voice that means enough- but perhaps she does not have to. Silently, softly, the baker reaches up, slender fingers cupping Kiada's cheek, head leaning forward so their foreheads touch as Amalia shuts her eyes and opens her mind, willing her feelings through the Attuned bond, hoping Kiada can understand. Love, sadness, sympathy, empathy; pride, protection, a solemn vow. You're not alone anymore, and I will always be here for you. You are strong. You are radiant. You have been wounded more than you deserve, and I am so, so sorry.
If the Harpy can be strong through all of that trauma, the very least the Shield can do is carry some of that strength now. And together maybe they can find that fire again- find it and tame it into something productive, a purpose for the lost girl to pursue.
