you drew memories in my mind I could never erase
painted colors in my heart I could never replace
"Boof?" Amalia repeats a little dubiously, reaching up to pull self-consciously upon a tawny lock. "Oh... I thought my hair was okay." It is one of the only features she finds favorable, in fact, one of her few points of vanity the girl maintains. Apparently, though, this was incorrect. Sunny expression a little soured, she bites her lip in thought. "So if... if I fix my hair and walk differently I'll be attractive?" It seems like it can't be that simple, but Adam seems confident enough.
As she makes her way out the door Amalia's bright voice carries back through the bakery. "Oh. Well, I was born in LongNight, but nobody ever celebrates it. Especially me. And-"
There is a sound of crashing, a yowl, and the whole building shakes a little as Amalia tumbles down the stairs, clearly too inebriated to navigate complex architecture. Should Adam go to look for her he will find a bundle of fur rising from the ground and shaking herself off before disappearing into the kitchen a moment.
The leopardess bounds back up the stairs, her prize clasped in her mouth. With an abashed expression she deposits it on the bed beside him before hopping up herself, nudging the empty treasure with her broad head and purring loudly in what might be construed as apology, or else smug self satisfaction.
As she makes her way out the door Amalia's bright voice carries back through the bakery. "Oh. Well, I was born in LongNight, but nobody ever celebrates it. Especially me. And-"
There is a sound of crashing, a yowl, and the whole building shakes a little as Amalia tumbles down the stairs, clearly too inebriated to navigate complex architecture. Should Adam go to look for her he will find a bundle of fur rising from the ground and shaking herself off before disappearing into the kitchen a moment.
The leopardess bounds back up the stairs, her prize clasped in her mouth. With an abashed expression she deposits it on the bed beside him before hopping up herself, nudging the empty treasure with her broad head and purring loudly in what might be construed as apology, or else smug self satisfaction.
meet me where the falling stars live
Amalia
