Amalia
She listens intently as Remi explains the drawings, looking over his shoulder without any real comprehension, her eyebrows furrowing as dark eyes ghost over gnarled plants and carefully scrawled notes. It seems organic, Remi says, and Amalia nods though she remains ignorant of what, exactly, all that means. Does it have to do with Phoebe's cells? With the strange words Nate was throwing around? If only she knew anything useful, could contribute anything at all- but Amalia's knowledge ends far short of true botany. It is all she can do to keep her garden alive.
It is the next piece of information that catches her breath in her chest, makes her blood run cold with concern as understanding dawns on the girl. She knows that Ronin is sick, of course (and worse, that Safrin is as well) but seeing the extent of it, the tremors and clamminess, the darkness beneath the skin...
Her hand rests on Remi's, a reassuring squeeze passing between their fingers, a pulse of empathy and love and determination through their minds. "Ludo told me Vi is looking into it. And Phoebe is working with Frey." She wishes she had more to tell him: answers and solutions, plans of attack, anything concrete, anything real, a way to save the ones they love.
But she doesn't. All they have is their determination, their affection and adoration and strength of character.
"Deimos says you're going back to the Spire. And that I am not to come." She glances sidelong, a little wry, mostly defeated, trying to gauge her friend's feelings on the matter. Amalia still resents this development, but understands it, in a way: here, too, the baker is useless, able to contribute nothing to a greater cause.
It is the next piece of information that catches her breath in her chest, makes her blood run cold with concern as understanding dawns on the girl. She knows that Ronin is sick, of course (and worse, that Safrin is as well) but seeing the extent of it, the tremors and clamminess, the darkness beneath the skin...
Her hand rests on Remi's, a reassuring squeeze passing between their fingers, a pulse of empathy and love and determination through their minds. "Ludo told me Vi is looking into it. And Phoebe is working with Frey." She wishes she had more to tell him: answers and solutions, plans of attack, anything concrete, anything real, a way to save the ones they love.
But she doesn't. All they have is their determination, their affection and adoration and strength of character.
"Deimos says you're going back to the Spire. And that I am not to come." She glances sidelong, a little wry, mostly defeated, trying to gauge her friend's feelings on the matter. Amalia still resents this development, but understands it, in a way: here, too, the baker is useless, able to contribute nothing to a greater cause.
with a brave heart anything is possible
