you drew memories in my mind I could never erase
painted colors in my heart I could never replace
Thinking too much could very well be the title of Amalia's autobiography, the only skill in which she is certain she could take home first place and then some. So Adam's attempts at distracting her are welcome, if not entirely effective, drawing her a little out of the dark place inside her head that she has for these past weeks dwelled. "They're... what I imagine the ocean would look like," she replies with a bashful shrug, blushing again, not accustomed to voicing her feelings on the man she loves. "I don't know. I've never... never really been attracted to someone, before. It's still new for me."
Uncurling a little, the baker lifts her head from her knees and places her hands on the bed behind her, her posture something almost relaxed. "What about Peter? Does he have eyes like a summer storm, or an evergreen forest, or stones in a pond?" Her voice is teasing, but curious, too. What is Adam like, waxing poetic on the topic of romance? He'd spoken of his wife before, but very little about the quiet man who seemed to have softened his roguish heart.
Amalia is pretty sure becoming a general must have some clout and superiority behind it, but she doesn't address her feelings now. Instead she lets her legs extend further, dangling off the edge of the bed as she stares at the stars upon her ceiling, made by Remi to glow in the dark. "I guess," she answers, not fully committed. "It just... it feels sometimes like everyone else is moving forward, and I'm just standing still." Getting married. Becoming generals. Running guilds. Gaining crowns. And here she is, in the bedroom of a bakery, sitting on a tiny bed and beginning to feel the effects of her first foray into drugs.
Uncurling a little, the baker lifts her head from her knees and places her hands on the bed behind her, her posture something almost relaxed. "What about Peter? Does he have eyes like a summer storm, or an evergreen forest, or stones in a pond?" Her voice is teasing, but curious, too. What is Adam like, waxing poetic on the topic of romance? He'd spoken of his wife before, but very little about the quiet man who seemed to have softened his roguish heart.
Amalia is pretty sure becoming a general must have some clout and superiority behind it, but she doesn't address her feelings now. Instead she lets her legs extend further, dangling off the edge of the bed as she stares at the stars upon her ceiling, made by Remi to glow in the dark. "I guess," she answers, not fully committed. "It just... it feels sometimes like everyone else is moving forward, and I'm just standing still." Getting married. Becoming generals. Running guilds. Gaining crowns. And here she is, in the bedroom of a bakery, sitting on a tiny bed and beginning to feel the effects of her first foray into drugs.
meet me where the falling stars live
Amalia
