meet me where the falling stars live
I will wait for you day and night
He chooses outside, which doesn't surprise her. It is a lovely day, and if she's being honest she's a little relieved they will not be cooped up with only each other for company. The luxere are a welcome distraction from the lingering tension between them, hard words and a history of distance hardly healed by one bowl of soup.Still, it's a start. The stew is rich and fragrant with herbs; Amalia hums a note of happiness as she swallows down a spoonful, chewing on a chunk of meat with teeth shifted to a carnivore's. Loren's praise makes her blush and glance up, pleasantly surprised and childishly proud. "Thank you," she replies, her alto voice bright, laughing and shaking her head. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." She's teasing, but sincere as well. If there is one thing that the baker takes pride in it is her trade, and she always blossoms under recognition of her hard work.
The next time he interrupts the silence is less happy. Turning back to look at Loren, Amalia furrows her brows. She isn't sure if she ought to be flattered by his apparent care or indignant that he thinks she will not take appropriate precautions (she will not). "You too." Placing her bowl down, Amalia leans forward, extending a hand toward a curious luxere who has wandered near the blanket. "Where will you be staying?"
Amalia
