Amalia
she wants the silence but fears the solitude
she wants to be alone and together with you
Clenched fists and clenched jaw and unfathomable distance: these are the things she feels most acutely, as Jigano continues once again to explain his actions, to justify them all. But how, how to possibly explain it, to make him see in a way that doesn't make her seem petty and small?
Maybe that's all she is, though. Petty, small, unable to forgive, to see that his actions are always well intentioned, to overcome her own ego and wounds. Maybe that's the way he sees her as she stands above him, ears pulled flat, listening to the reasons and explanations, the defenses to make him always right. "I don't care why you did it," Amalia whispers, her voice hard and without inflection. "I don't care that you meant well, or you fucked up in the past, or you were wounded. I don't care why you never came to see me when I was willing to give up my freedom to Zariah, to save what you had built. I don't care how right you always are."
Inhaling deeply, she closes her eyes, a crooked and mirthless half smile on her face. "But... but you always have to be right, don't you? Even when you make a mistake, you have to have a reason. A defense. You can never have messed up... just be sorry." In a way that may be the crux of the issue, the thing that hurts her most of all. Because it feels as though if she lets herself be hurt by him, it is she who has done wrong.
What am I to you? "You're my friend," she answers swiftly, certainly, dark eyes blinking open to meet his blues. And just as quickly darting away, wincing as again she asks what she needs him to be. Exhaling sharply, suddenly tired, Amalia shakes her head. It feels like a pointless fight, and the more she struggles the less she understands, drowned in her own insecurities and fear and just wanting to be told I'm sorry, to be told that it's okay to hurt instead of having to explain. "I don't know. I should- I shouldn't have said anything. I'm just tired and worried about LongNight and... and I should go." You do always leave me, she can hear it now, but she doesn't know what else to do.
Maybe that's all she is, though. Petty, small, unable to forgive, to see that his actions are always well intentioned, to overcome her own ego and wounds. Maybe that's the way he sees her as she stands above him, ears pulled flat, listening to the reasons and explanations, the defenses to make him always right. "I don't care why you did it," Amalia whispers, her voice hard and without inflection. "I don't care that you meant well, or you fucked up in the past, or you were wounded. I don't care why you never came to see me when I was willing to give up my freedom to Zariah, to save what you had built. I don't care how right you always are."
Inhaling deeply, she closes her eyes, a crooked and mirthless half smile on her face. "But... but you always have to be right, don't you? Even when you make a mistake, you have to have a reason. A defense. You can never have messed up... just be sorry." In a way that may be the crux of the issue, the thing that hurts her most of all. Because it feels as though if she lets herself be hurt by him, it is she who has done wrong.
What am I to you? "You're my friend," she answers swiftly, certainly, dark eyes blinking open to meet his blues. And just as quickly darting away, wincing as again she asks what she needs him to be. Exhaling sharply, suddenly tired, Amalia shakes her head. It feels like a pointless fight, and the more she struggles the less she understands, drowned in her own insecurities and fear and just wanting to be told I'm sorry, to be told that it's okay to hurt instead of having to explain. "I don't know. I should- I shouldn't have said anything. I'm just tired and worried about LongNight and... and I should go." You do always leave me, she can hear it now, but she doesn't know what else to do.
she ran to the lighthouse, hoped that it would help her see
she saw that the lighthouse had been washed out to sea
