A spoonful of sugar

Her thanks was a ray of morning light through the dark curtains that had come to shroud their friendship, a reminder that exhaustion and grief were not forever, however dark they could make the day. His expression softened, a pulse of quiet warmth in the Attuned bond as he nodded. Her apology, though, had him quirking a wry smile again as Isuma chirruped quietly at them. "Me too," he said, stroking her back while she stretched beside Amalia.

Neither of them were what the other wanted, perhaps, neither of them perfect paragons of virtue; but they were both human - or at least, he was now - and they both tried to serve the old gods as best they could. "We can take turns," he said with that smile still holding a tired humor. "Visiting each other, when it all gets to be too much." He hesitated, remembering something he had forgotten in the intervening year, gifts he had once given to those close to him. Amalia's had been waiting for the right moment... one that had never arrived. It would never arrive, he realized belatedly. There would always be something, some new tragedy or disaster or misunderstanding.

He exhaled, smile fading as he reclaimed his hands, folding them together as he plucked at the shimmering strings of magic in his soul. Bronze and green, twisting together to create something from nothing, drawing on the nearby geology as metal yet eluded him. Not silver, then, but stone: alabaster tipped with blues, small enough to hang from a pendant or bracelet with a loop on the back for a small chain or thong. He smiled shyly as he held his hands out to her, opening them to reveal the small gryphon charm in Isuma's colors while the muse herself stood up to inspect it, resting her foreclaws on his arm while she sniffed at the little likeness.

"A little friend to keep you company between your other visitors," he explained as Isuma decreed it acceptable and picked it up by the loop, trying to hop into Amalia's lap to proudly present her with the little charm as if she had been the one to make it.

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help They can take turns visiting each other - "Okay," she answers, an uneasy smile on her weary lips. Take turns picking each other up when they break and break and break again, until the day when the pieces just fall through the other's fingers like sand. He brings his hands together and she finds herself curious as to why, leaning forward despite her exhaustion a though proximity will lend her knowledge. As she does she presses her hand into Isuma's feathers, fingers curling in the soft fluff between the griffin's wings. Impatient as ever, the Shield's eyes are sharp and searching as she waits for him to reveal his prize: a little griffin of alabaster stone, the perfect size to join the charms that dangle around her neck. "Oh," Amalia whispers softly, extending her hand to take it from Jigano, clearly enraptured by the trinket. "Oh, it's beautiful. I- thank you. Both of you," Amalia adds, looking down at the griffin in her lap with a soft and sincere smile, her cheeks rosy, her dark eyes bright. "I'm... I don't have anything to give you in return. Sorry." a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine

Even sand could become stone again, given time. Her smile might have been uneasy, but it held more light than her earlier despair had, and he would gladly take the small steps she gave him, just as she took his own slow progress.

Her interest in what he was doing was even more gratifying, and if he hadn't been concentrating so intently he would have smiled to see her curiosity so piqued. Isuma was just happy to have her sister's hand in her fur and feathers, long tail curling and uncurling slowly on the sheets in contentment until Jigano finished the charm and she hopped up to make sure it passed muster before delivering it.

Amalia's obvious pleasure in the gift warmed and healed something that had been long cracked in his own heart, hope pulsing softly in the undertones of the Attuned bond. The bard shook his head at her apology, his shy smile brightening at her joy. "Magic can be a bit unfair," he admitted apologetically. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot."

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help She raises her hands to her neck as he speaks, removing the necklace she always wears with delicate fingers made dexterous again by healing - from Loren, and from him. Carefully she spreads it on the bed, the charms glittering in the infirmary light: the whale, the harpy, the unicorn, the stag. The shield tucked in a silver moon. The black bone from Safrin, still warm to the touch. And the countless stars, each waiting to be removed and replaced with another memory, another gift. Careful to work around Isuma, she unclasps one of the larger stars from the right side of the chain. In its place the griffin gains a position: a mirror to the whale on the other side, an appropriate balance between the two. "There," Amalia exhales happily, her fingers drifting across the charms. "A perfect fit." Taking the sliver star into her palm, she regards it a moment before extending her hand. Her smile is crooked as she looks at Jigano: "It's hardly a fair exchange, but here. And... one day I'll have something better to give." a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine

It was the first time he'd really seen the necklace, too busy with preparations for parties and the subsequent tragedies to really get a good look at it. Glimpsed flickers of silver had been altered with new colors, personal and unique shapes, and he was pleased that she thought his gift worthy of being added to such an emotional collection. Isuma trilled softly as 'she' was added, balancing Jyoti, her flying friend. Jigano beamed at them both, glad that the three of them had managed to find a moment of joy in the midst of so much sorrow in the world.

The star was more than he could have expected and something he would never have been brave enough to ask for, but he took it with shining eyes, folding it into his hand and bowing his head in gratitude. "I should probably say that you don't have to give me anything but... I would like that, very much," he admitted, looking up again with a hopeful smile, free of its usual wry twist. "Until then, though, when can I come back to see you again?" Rebuilding would take time and he didn't want to rush things or assume too much, but he didn't want to lose the threads of these moments, either. Amalia could set the pace and they'd learn as they went what they were to each other now. Friends, colleagues, neither perfect but both trying to be better than who they were.

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help Something of the tension between them eases, relaxing as the gifts are exchanges and promises of friendship renewed. Carefully she raises the string of charms up again, reaching under her messy braid to clasp it around her neck. Then her hands return to Isuma, a shy, happy smile on her slightly flushed face. It feels good to be still for a moment. To pretend they're not just disaster artists flailing and grasping at straws. "Ah... you can come visit me whenever. I'm not going anywhere any time soon." A little wry, return to more serious issues; her fingers curl in Isuma's fur. "Or maybe next time I can come and see you? At the Atheneum or... or take you up on that dinner?" a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine

Isuma purred at the hands that worked into fur and feathers, turning her head to rub a downy cheek against Amalia's wrist. Jigano smiled at the sight of the two happy owl-ladies in his life, savoring the moment for what it was, all the more dear for knowing that it might last only minutes or even seconds more. Every second of happiness grasped, though, was worth a fortune, and he let it settle over him like a warm blanket.

He nodded at her point that she wasn't going anywhere yet, returning the wry smile and no longer trying to argue that she could leave. She would, when she was ready. Until then, if she needed to spend some time in this cocoon recovering he would do what he could to help. The unexpected off to visit him, though, brightened his eyes considerably and he nodded eagerly. "Either would be wonderful," he agreed. "Though Rory would love to have you over, too. But in the Atheneum you might get to meet some of the new Loreseekers... another Natural has joined us," he confided with a rueful grin. "Quanil, from one of the outlying farms. They are almost too curious for me to handle," he admitted sheepishly.

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help More loreseekers, more change- she winces, chagrined, knowing it is a duty she's neglected. "Quanil... Doesn't sound familiar. My grandmother probably knew them." Her grandmother had known everyone, once upon a time. Amalia tilts her head curiously. "How many are there, now? Loreseekers, that is." Then something strikes her, and she wrinkles her nose ruefully, her fingers tightening in Isuma's ruff as she awkwardly looks away. "I, uh, I saw Maea. I said some things that I regret. She said she's going to beat me up " The idea of tiny Maea beating anyone up is laughable, but Amalia does not smile. "Sorry. I know she's a Loreseeker, too." a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine

He gave a slight shrug as to whether the elder Chandrakant had known Quanil. "They're young, and it sounds like they've lived in the Outskirts their whole life. Their family is very overprotective of them, and they didn't travel into the Settlement much... but they're here now," he added with a wry grin. "And very enthusiastic in asking as many questions as they can fit into one breath!" Sometimes he was worried Quanil would turn blue, trying to get all their questions out without a pause in between for answers, but appreciated the eagerness and the burning desire to learn more, even if it could be a bit overwhelming at times.

Her question made him pause to count, and before he could answer she had looked away, bringing up another ghost. The thought of Maea beating up Amalia did make him smile for a bare second before it faded into a thoughtful frown. "Actually... she's not anymore," he admitted with a soft sigh of regret. "She was... dissatisfied with just learning magic from myself, Deimos, and Loren. She wanted to join Zariah's new academy. Given our history with Zariah I ruled that no Loreseeker could also be one of the Merciless's students, even when she offered to be a spy." A look of frustration passed over his face. "I don't want us to be spies. That's not why I founded the guild, but..." he draw a breath, relaxing hands that had closed into fists and taking strength from the star charm he held. "I told her that if she ever left Zariah, she could return to the Loreseekers. We're still on good terms, but she's no longer... no longer one of us."

He shook his head regretfully, then raised it again to give her a rueful smile, or at least the shadow of one. "Loren joined in Flowerbirth but then resigned recently, too, after Abasi... died." Understandable, that he would need time to himself to mourn. "But Quanil and Tarasha - one of our Fae neighbors - joined, and so did an Outlander named Kalynd. A priestess from Halo did, too; Ingrid, though I haven't seen her much since. And there's you, me, and Sam, of course," he ended fondly on the foundations of the Guild. "Would you like me to bring you a journal to write in while you're here? Perhaps you can set down some recipes? I was meaning to ask if you might teach another baking class, maybe in Leafchange?"

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help So Maea is not a member of the guild now. Amalia frowns, not sure what to make of this development: it had seemed like a good track for the sickly girl to be on. The idea of her becoming Zariah's protege does cause a wince of distaste to rise to the Shield's face, though she can certainly picture it. Reaching up, she fidgets with the new charm around her neck. "Maea was bedridden for so long. I guess it's no surprise she's ambitious, now that she's well." A new fae member is a valuable piece of information, one Amalia stores away, the memory of long ago given quests burning in her mind. And Ingrid she's met, though the impression the crass priestess left was rather sour. And Sam.... Shaking her head, Amalia smiles slightly, coming back to focus on Jigano. "Ah- Deimos gave me a notebook I've been using last year." A flush of color rises to her cheeks suddenly, heat and happiness obvious in her expressive face. "I... we haven't told many people but, uh, we're getting married. Eventually." a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine

He understood and shared Amalia's wince, and he tilted his head in agreement with her opinion on Maea's ambitions. "It's not really a surprise, after she tried to become ruler of the Hollowed Grounds before Zariah," he agreed with a sigh. "Disappointing to me, personally, after what Zariah tried to do to our Guild but... no, not a surprise." He gave a slight shrug. "I know I'm being selfish and petty about it, but it's how I feel." Two of his own faults, admitted freely in this oddly vulnerable conversation between the two of them.

A notebook from Deimos? The man could create wonders, after all, and Jigano grinned ruefully, glad that she was still journaling. The blush that rose almost earned an arched brow but he repressed the urge and merely noted it with a mix of curiosity and fondness - however awkward his relationship with the General had been and might yet become again, the man was clearly Amalia's light-o-love, and she his.

The news that followed the blush was entirely unexpected, however, and blue eyes widened in shock before a silly grin broke over Jigano's face. Isuma reeped? curiously and he held out his hand to her before catching the gryphlet up to lift her above his head and then bring her back down to cuddle against his chest while she tried to purr and chortle at the same time, not understand what was happening but glad that her bonded and her sister were getting along again. "Amalia, that's wonderful news! Congratulations! Who asked who? And has he given you a ring yet? How did it happen?" He was eager to hear the details of the engagement, eyes bright at this stolen moment of cheer amid Caido's tragedies.

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help Oh, right. The coup. "I... may have said something about that," she admits with another grimace, rubbing her right palm awkwardly over her left hand. "About her failing to be a queen and then running away. But her story is... I don't know. It doesn't make any sense to me." She shrugs, not caring to dwell too long on her childhood's friend's perplexing choices. Jigano's excitement at the engagement causes Amalia's blush to deepen; she nods awkwardly before answering his question, a little bit taken aback. "Ah... he asked me. At the festival. Before..." Before it all went straight to hell. That their moment will forever be tarnished by the disaster that followed is something she will confront later, again and again and again. "He did give me a ring. And I gave one to him. Remi made it, from one of my scales." Another pang, another person potentially lost, another shadow to a moment that should have been so bright. a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine

He smiled wryly at her confession, looking down at the star in his hand. "I did, too," he said. "Before she disappeared, at least. I questioned what gave her the right to rule, and whether she would be willing to give up power now that she had it..." He shrugged. "But in the end it didn't matter." Now, though, she was back... and once again pursuing power in ways he never would have suspected of the shy young woman he had first met.

But all thought of Maea was wiped away at the mention of the upcoming wedding, and the bard leaned forward eagerly to hear all the juicy details of the engagement. The festival, though... he sent a pulse of comfort through the Attuned bond, of sorrow for the catastrophe that had befallen what should have been a happy day. "When you're ready, I hope you'll let us help with the wedding," he said gently. "Even if it's just a small one. Isuma and I would be honored to come." He hesitated a moment, lips quirking back into a small, rueful smile. "And, if it helps, I think Deimos and I are... finding an equilibrium again. I don't know if we'll ever be friends, but we both have a habit of helping people out and keep running into each other and... well..." He tickled Isuma's ears to distract her from trying to hop back into Amalia's lap. "... it turns out we work pretty well together, when we have a common goal."

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help "I doubt we'll do much by way of a wedding," Amalia admits wryly, a flush across her cheek. "I never... wanted a big wedding. Though if Adam has his way, it'll be absolutely ridiculous." She remembers the conversation about sparkly dresses and dancing, never suspecting that within weeks her best friend will be dead. The comment about Deimos earns a raise of her eyebrow, somewhat skeptical but hopeful nonetheless that the men in her life will somehow find a way to work together. "I'll let you know," she promises, running a hand through her hair. "We'll have to see what happens. But... that would be nice." a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine