AmaLiA
the shield of safrin
The distant encouragement spurrs the Shield on despite her anxieties, despite the feeling that there is no way this could possibly be her. It is too beautiful, too vast, the depth of a soul and the sigh of a storm, firelit and buoyant, light and alive. And yet it is here, so it must be the girl.
The girl as she always wished to be.
And as she touches it with tentative fingers the feeling - the figure - springs to life. Large but not looming, strong but not frightening, wreathed in fire without any risk of burn. Black eyes meet black eyes as the qilin lowers its graceful head, long ears flicking in curiosity and acceptance, a breath of warmth exhaled. It is Amalia's breath; the creature presses against her forehead and at once the pair is one and the same, the baker slipping into this form as easily as any of her other skins. "Oh," she breathes in wonder, in happiness, in quiet comfort and disbelief. "Oh. This is me."
The girl as she always wished to be.
And as she touches it with tentative fingers the feeling - the figure - springs to life. Large but not looming, strong but not frightening, wreathed in fire without any risk of burn. Black eyes meet black eyes as the qilin lowers its graceful head, long ears flicking in curiosity and acceptance, a breath of warmth exhaled. It is Amalia's breath; the creature presses against her forehead and at once the pair is one and the same, the baker slipping into this form as easily as any of her other skins. "Oh," she breathes in wonder, in happiness, in quiet comfort and disbelief. "Oh. This is me."
you're breaking your own heart
