Prodigal

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help "It..." Truthfully, Amalia had been rather distracted on her trip to the Undercroft, her reunion with Deimos managing to eclipse even her adoration for the hidden trove of books. Flushing a little, the girl looks away, trying to hide her embarrassed smile. "It was like the earth itself had a library. Like the tree was its keeper. I barely scratched the surface, though... I would love to spend more time there." When I'm not escaping a kidnapping, she does not add, but it is an event for which Amalia bears the bard no ill will. Unlike Deimos, or so Jigano seems to think. Her face falls into thoughtful anxiety as her friend sits down before her, listening silently as details she never knew or suspected are brought to light. How had she not seen this? The resentments, the misunderstandings, the rising tide of doubt. She had known Jigano wanted to return to the Spire, of course, but when he never approached her the girl had assumed the need had faded away. And when they had gone back their troupe had made sense: three strong magicians, a man who could walk through walls, and a girl with a shield of fire. She had been too preoccupied with the blight, the gods, the Spire, all of it, to notice the absence of her friend. But that Deimos threatened him? For her? Amalia shakes her head, not sure what to make of the declaration, not wanting to think too hard about it. "He would not hurt you," she says with confidence, though she does not quite meet his blue eyes. She isn't trying to make excuses for him: it is simply a fact. "He was scared. We were all scared." It was a trying and painful series of months, when Zariah loomed above them like a threatening storm. Choices had been made for good or ill, and trust and patience had been strained. Though the comment that the Sword speaks too little and the Sage too much brings a mirthless chuckle to her lips, causing the girl to shake her head. With a sigh she lowers her chin to her palms, elbows resting on the table before her, eyes closed for a moment as she tries to take it all in. "The Spire... I would have gone, if you asked. Even if you didn't. Deimos told me not to, but- how could I not help, after Safrin?" She swallows, the name wavering a little on her tongue. "I thought... you said you were sick, when it happened. And I thought - since they said only magic users - and I had Edrei's magic-" But of course he would have wanted to be part of it, to try and rescue the snake. She should have seen it. She should have known. But Jigano had been sick and no one had seen him, and the blight needed to be dealt with, and Ronin was dying, and Safrin was suffering, and she had only just gained the magic in the shield and there was always so much on her mind- -"I should have been a better friend. I'm sorry, Jigano." a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine