AmaLiA
the shield of safrin
Like midnight, like stars, the goddess appears, and Amalia finds herself breathtaken again by Safrin's beauty, as though she were seeing it for the first time. "Safrin," she breathes, reverent and adoring, her dark eyes turning upward, transfixed upon the being. As the deity descends the Shield rises, letting her hand be taken by her goddess, almost clinging, almost brazen as she clutches the supple stardust skin, feeling the pads of Safrin's fingers as though not sure if they will fade away.
The last time she felt these fingers they were on her chin, threatening to snap her mortal neck. It is a memory Amalia cannot help but dwell on, one that has haunted her dreams in the nights sense. There is no judgement or anger as the girl looks upon her goddess: how could there be, when Safrin has done nothing wrong, when it is Amalia who thought to make herself more than she is? "I-" she begins, but falters, bites it off. It does not matter what she has done, what she thinks
Still, there are unsaid things on the tip of her tongue: did you mean the things you said? Did you truly feel that way? Do you still feel it now? Selfish questions once again, and she tries to bury them down. "Are you well now?" the baker wonders instead, searching in her eyes for signs of the blight. "Did the Vi- did the roses work?"
The last time she felt these fingers they were on her chin, threatening to snap her mortal neck. It is a memory Amalia cannot help but dwell on, one that has haunted her dreams in the nights sense. There is no judgement or anger as the girl looks upon her goddess: how could there be, when Safrin has done nothing wrong, when it is Amalia who thought to make herself more than she is? "I-" she begins, but falters, bites it off. It does not matter what she has done, what she thinks
Still, there are unsaid things on the tip of her tongue: did you mean the things you said? Did you truly feel that way? Do you still feel it now? Selfish questions once again, and she tries to bury them down. "Are you well now?" the baker wonders instead, searching in her eyes for signs of the blight. "Did the Vi- did the roses work?"
you're breaking your own heart
