Answers In The Stars

Amalia I took the stars from our eyes and I made a map Briefly Amalia considers disappearing into the ground, mildly mortified by Adam's glib nature, the way he flirts with her favored god. But Safrin seems pleased with the attention, and the leopardess knows the thief well enough to know there is no malicious intent: it is Adam's strange way of being friendly, flirting and flaunting and leaning toward the absurd. Settling back a little, she lets the two converse together, happy and proud to have brought the goddess some happiness, and to have shared with Adam something she dearly loves. It is not until the starlit eyes turn back on her that Amalia blinks, the question feeling like lead upon her, a blade pulled tight across her neck. How do you answer a question like that? How do you tell the truth to a goddess brought low by naught but mortal mistakes? Honestly, Amalia supposes, as hard as it may be. "You will always be beautiful, Safrin," she murmurs, looking up at the deity with abject adoration in her eyes. "Even diminished. Even ill." Yes, she does not say aloud, but knows that the goddess will read it in her thoughts, her voice. Yes, it is noticeable, and I am scared, and I will do all I can to fight for you, to be your shield. And I knew that somehow I could find my way back