Running out of air

Anger prickles beneath her skin, an easier defense than openness, than honesty, than looking at the wounds; Amalia swallows the ire down and drops her onyx eyes. She does not ask the bard to leave, nor does she invite him in further. In truth, Amalia is at a loss for words, unable to tame her wild emotions into anything coherent enough to say aloud. Stress and anxiety have worn on the girl: she has fought many battles in the past seasons, and the last thing she wants is to fight with him, to pick apart wounded pride, to be the bigger person when it is hard to be strong. Jigano's purpose is a simple enough one, and Amalia shrugs her easy agreement, still unwilling to make the first step. "Alright," she answers simply, gesturing to the seat across the counter, an invitation for him to speak. Glancing up at the pair again, the baker smiles at Isuma, finding the companion guiltless in this all. "Jyoti is in the garden if you want to go fetch her. Jigano, would you like some tea?" a m a l i a You were young and you'd stare With a reverence unimpaired Searching in your dark eyes to find the stars already there