meet me where the falling stars live
I will wait for you day and night
Physically, no. It isn't particularly reassuring, especially the way Loren says it, his voice sharp shards of ice glittering in the cold. He circles her in a strangely predatory fashion, and Amalia watches from her place on the bench, keen eyes following with catlike precision, more fur rising on her arms. In truth she has no idea what is going on, only that he is acting like a man possessed, driven by something other than himself. The Loren she knows is pompous, yes, with martyr and savior complexes both in spades. He stretches himself thin and attempts to fix the world without actually making any steps to fix himself. Has he finally broke, then, snapped beneath the weight of too many burdens, too many failures, too much loss?Is this the road she will go down, too?
He talks about his parents, his upbringing, about sticks and stones. He says that he was weak and obedient- "Were you?" she Shield interjects softly, still watching, her dark eyes sharp. She cannot help but think that his parents don't particularly sound like the kind of people who one would want to impress, but it is only one of a thousand anxious concerns that rushes through her head. "Are you?"
She was not raised the way he was, with shows of force and flashing fangs. This is a strange dance, and she does not know the steps, does not know how to be anything but blunt. "What happened to you?" she wonders, tilting her head and making an effort not to return to rubbing her wrist. Maybe if they were friends she would be kinder, but there is something about the former Duke that leaves her edges sharp. "You don't seem strong right now. You seem like a dick."
Amalia
