AmaLIa
shield of safrin
The joke falls flat, Amalia being far too distressed to pick up on the humor. Amun's body language is as far from it's normal bouyancy as she's ever seen; it twists at her heart to see him so subdued, the effects of their brush with disaster written so clearly across his form.
Leaning back against her pillows Amalia sighs and furrows her brow. "Everything's a mess, isn't it? I'm sorry, Amun. Could... Could the Voice not do anything?"
Leaning back against her pillows Amalia sighs and furrows her brow. "Everything's a mess, isn't it? I'm sorry, Amun. Could... Could the Voice not do anything?"
you can't choose what stays
and what fades away
and what fades away