Amalia
the shield of safrin
His tone and expression leave no room for arguing, and Amalia does not push the issue, does not counter with the good her gods have done. Pursing her lips and glances away, at last retreating, her soul not built for argument.
There is something in his careful tone that sets her further on edge; suddenly Amalia is reminded of conversations with Jigano, of the feeling that something is being said between the words that leave his lips. "Maybe," she replies slowly, her tone also cautious, her dark eyes bright. "It depends on how you define alive. They were originally made by Vi, but now they're.. mechanical, almost. And Safrin said the Voice takes their souls. So are they alive?"
She shrugs; it isn't a real answer but she's feeling restless and unhappy with the direction the conversation has taken. Sighing, she raised the wine to her lips and takes another sip. "What's your point, Loren?"
There is something in his careful tone that sets her further on edge; suddenly Amalia is reminded of conversations with Jigano, of the feeling that something is being said between the words that leave his lips. "Maybe," she replies slowly, her tone also cautious, her dark eyes bright. "It depends on how you define alive. They were originally made by Vi, but now they're.. mechanical, almost. And Safrin said the Voice takes their souls. So are they alive?"
She shrugs; it isn't a real answer but she's feeling restless and unhappy with the direction the conversation has taken. Sighing, she raised the wine to her lips and takes another sip. "What's your point, Loren?"
you are slowly growing
but you are still growing
and that is enough
