i sailed seas of emotions to wander a forest of scars
i am a dance of light and darkness
There is something about this place that makes her quiet, strips away the false contentment she wears of late and leaves her feeling bare. The books do not care if you are happy, she supposes; the books do not care if you fail or succeed. There is nothing to hide from them, because they do not care, and Amalia relishes that just as she fears it, her eyes already moving off him to look across the stacks, wondering if the things she seeks are still where she left them, if she still has a place among the ghosts.
He speaks again and her eyes snap back, her mouth quirking in a half smile as he admits to ignorance. Shaking her head, Amalia turns to the books again, her expression wistful and affectionate. "Not many do, these days." The place deserves a keeper, for though Jigano does well he is busy and distracted, especially of late. "I used to know it better than most, but even then it held secrets." Like the shrine to the Voice, the girl thinks, a bitter taste upon her tongue.
She is softening, easing, so of course he must say something to make her wince, set her teeth on edge. Shuffling books, the baker too begins to extend her hand but stops as he says his name, her dark eyes growing wide and hard. "Loren Launcelyn," the shield repeats, the last name falling from her tongue like lead. Of course- she knows now why she knows him, remembering fire and shouting, the man who tried to treat her as though this was not her domain.
The man who Remi had loved.
She pulls her hand back to herself, not trusting this kin of their errant tyrant Queen. "We've met. Here, actually. There were gourds." Has he come to finish Zariah's threats, to treat her like she is less than dirt and spout more nonsense about worthiness? Has he come to try again to take her Atheneum, to cast fire among the parchment and yell at her panic?
Does she even register on his radar, or is she too small for the mighty Launcelyn?
He speaks again and her eyes snap back, her mouth quirking in a half smile as he admits to ignorance. Shaking her head, Amalia turns to the books again, her expression wistful and affectionate. "Not many do, these days." The place deserves a keeper, for though Jigano does well he is busy and distracted, especially of late. "I used to know it better than most, but even then it held secrets." Like the shrine to the Voice, the girl thinks, a bitter taste upon her tongue.
She is softening, easing, so of course he must say something to make her wince, set her teeth on edge. Shuffling books, the baker too begins to extend her hand but stops as he says his name, her dark eyes growing wide and hard. "Loren Launcelyn," the shield repeats, the last name falling from her tongue like lead. Of course- she knows now why she knows him, remembering fire and shouting, the man who tried to treat her as though this was not her domain.
The man who Remi had loved.
She pulls her hand back to herself, not trusting this kin of their errant tyrant Queen. "We've met. Here, actually. There were gourds." Has he come to finish Zariah's threats, to treat her like she is less than dirt and spout more nonsense about worthiness? Has he come to try again to take her Atheneum, to cast fire among the parchment and yell at her panic?
Does she even register on his radar, or is she too small for the mighty Launcelyn?
a galaxy of shadow and stars
AMALIA
