A spoonful of sugar
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#1
He had failed her again. He should have stayed behind to protect her, to shield her from the falling rubble. He should have been the one to be struck down by the rage of a demigod. He should have--

Should have done a lot of things differently. But this wasn't about him, in the end. He couldn't change the past, but she deserved better from him than his fear or his retreat to the farm this time. She deserved her friends by her side, and his support, not his wallowing.

He came on quiet feet, a large basket on his arm, and his clothes cleaned and repaired with neat stitches since the day the light had gone out for too many innocent Grounders. He spoke softly to the nurse for directions, then took a deep breath and approached the alcove where he was told the Shield was at. He cleared his throat, a quiet noise to alert her that someone had arrived, before poking his head through the curtain. "Amalia?" he called, blue eyes searching out the form of one who had come to mean so much to him in the past year. "May I come in?"
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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MP: 2580
#2

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


It is a pensive mood that Jigano finds Amalia in, lying back on her bed and staring intently at the ceiling, tracing cracks in wood and stone that has withstood centuries of isolation. She does not look over as the bard peers through the curtain, but a silent pulse through the Attuned bond speaks of acceptance and invitation to join.

Truth be told, Amalia is not sure if she begrudges Jigano for escaping safely when she did not. She does, however, know the guilt she would carry if the roles were reversed- the guilt her friend almost certainly wears across his shoulders like a cross.

It is for this reason she holds herself close, only letting her appreciation for his presence and his healing eke out through the bond. The resentment, the pain, the fear, the loneliness, the way she misses what they were and hates what they seem to have become- it is contained, for as long as she is able to hold on.

And holding on depends on her looking elsewhere, thinking elsewhere, feeling elsewhere, so she keeps her eyes trained on the cracks in a structure she once believed indestructible. But the silence is unbearable, too, and she fears what he might fill it with."I spent a lot of time in the infirmary as a child," Amalia says softly, her alto voice distant as she remembers those times. "Not because I was sick. My mother - I think I told you - she was a healer. Abandoned. She wanted me to learn about medicine, but I always hated it here."

Exhaling a half-laugh she shuts her eyes, a rueful smile curling at her lips. "I could be such a brat about it sometimes."

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


Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#3
He would not have blamed her if she had rejected his approach, but her pulse of acceptance was more welcome than he had words to say, and he returned a silent chime of gratitude as he slipped in and tugged the curtain closed, finding his way to a chair at her side. The basket was set down, though the cloth over it rustled suspiciously before settling back to silence at a soft thought from the bard. He said nothing at first, simply holding out his hand to the battered Shield in invitation. Magic tingled in his fingertips, and if she accepted it he would begin again to Heal as much as he could.

Silence was not so strange to him. He and Rory communicated in silence so often, but it had been so natural between them that he had never questioned it. Touch and glance, smile and hug, tears and laughter... what he'd had with Amalia was so different he had never realized the distance his words had put between them. Perhaps he should have found the silence between them sooner, rather then relying on words that failed to convey the heart's simplest messages.

Pride, Safrin had sneered at him. Heroics that he had no claim to. Promises he could not keep, that once his curse - a real curse, a devil's kiss upon his bloodline - would have left him retching and nauseous over failing. His failure at being a hero had cost Amalia her legs, and he had no doubt that the star-eyed goddess would smite him down when next they met for it...

If the Voice didn't kill him first.

He was not, at least, a stranger to living on borrowed time. He would worry about the rage of the gods when it came time to face them. Here and now he gave what Amalia was willing to accept, and he took what she returned to him with gratitude as her low voice stirred the air. A childhood of resentment, a desire to be something else than what her parent dictated, and he nodded understanding, and remembrance of a tale only partially-told before. "Rory did too, last year," he said softly, mind stretching back to a night of blood and fire, and lives so nearly lost. "Hated it here, I mean." He smiled down at her smile, a silver brow arching with a hint of hesitance, uncertain how his offer would be met. "I came to break you out for a little while, if you wanted some fresh air and a bit of sun. Wherever you wish to go today, I can be your steed." Or they could remain where they were, two uneasy souls who had lost the harmony of their song, yet still strove to find the rhythm they had once fallen into so easily.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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MP: 2580
#4

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


He takes her hand and she allows it, though there is little left for him to do. The truth is, Amalia's body is nearly healed: only the nerves in her spine remain shattered, and repairing them will take more than magic. Nerves, her mother used to tell her, were not made to be regrown. The body is a resilient thing, regenerating, thriving, but nerves?

Nerves, like hearts, are not so easy. Once they've broken, they tend to stay that way.

His comment about Rory earns a flicker of a smile, something sad and unreadable flashing behind her dark eyes. "I remember." I was there. She doesn't feel a need to remind him of this - he had been there, too, after all, as she lay in the infirmary a year before, her body recovering from minutes of death. Somehow it had been easier that time, despite the damage being more severe. Amalia had been wounded, but she'd found strength in the days that followed. The Spark Bird appearing, Ludo's task... it felt like reassurance, gave her resilience and purpose to go on.

But now? Now as she lies on her infirmary bed Amalia only feels hollow, rudderless, without a thought as to what happens next. Certainly she could leave this bed, but what would she do outside of it? She has failed- her gods, her ancestors, her friends, her home. There is no quest, no mythical creature to light the darkness. Ronin is gone, and Remi too, and Aoife...

...Aoife...

She closes her eyes and bites her lip, still not looking at the bard. "I'll go outside when I can go on my own," the girl says simply, a tired smile on her face. It's the excuse she's given everybody, things left unsaid beneath the bland statement. "I... I don't think I'm ready to face it all yet."

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


Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#5
He stopped trying once before, and it had created wounds between them that had festered for seasons. If he could do anything, no matter how small, he would do it for her now. He gave her his magic and his regret that he had not prevented it from happening, but most of all he gave her his love in the Healing that flowed from his hand to hers once she had taken it, a fragile enough bridge but a bridge all the same.

None of them could forget the last time they had been here, in blood and fire and so close to the line of failure. Death had taken Amalia before Vai had wrested her back from it. It had nearly taken Rory. And yet, a few days later, they had all walked outside to see the Sparkbird on her perch.

A perch that had set empty this year, the promise of hope extinguished along with so many other lives.

He nodded slightly at her words, and a quiet chirrup of confusion came from the basket. A pale head popped from beneath the towel, followed by a blue-winged body as Isuma hopped up onto the bed and settled in beside Amalia's hip, purring a quiet rumble as Jigano silently explained to her that they'd be staying in today. "You could come stay at the farm?" he suggested softly. "You know Rory and I would be glad to have you." And perhaps the Shield and the wolf-souled farmer would do each other some good to be together again.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#6

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


It isn't about where she'll go, what she'll do. The place doesn't matter- it's about who she is, and right now that person simply isn't ready to face the outside world. Shaking her head at the invitation, Amalia reaches down for Isuma's neck, burying fingers in the thick leopard fur. "I have a home," she replies, smiling crookedly, the expression far away from her eyes.

A home she isn't ready to face.

It feels like they're far away from each other again, and the distance is exhausting. She's trying to let him in, to show a little of her rawness, but he does not seem to want to look- and who can blame him for that? He's tried before and she rebuffed him, too stubborn and selfish to relent when she should. It's that same stubborn foolishness that led to her being here, spine shattered and legs immobile as she stares at the ceiling and tries not to cry.

If only she could have lost feeling in her heart, rather than her legs.

"How are you holding up? After... Everything."

LongNight. Their fight. Becoming abandoned. The carnage at the festival. The fall of the Temple. How are any of them surviving, after all they've seen? Can they ever be the same?

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


Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#7
She did, and a dark-haired General who loved her very much who would be waiting for her there. Jigano smiled a little sadly and dipped his head in acceptance, glad to see Isuma offering some small solace as raptoral foreclaws began to make biscuits on the bedsheet beside Amalia. He loved this woman who had become a part of his life, a sister he'd never had, as he had thought he'd been something akin to her brother... once.

Now? After the past year and all the tragedies and misunderstandings and pain he'd caused in his self-righteous arrogance? He was just glad that she let him stay at her bedside after he'd let her down yet again.

"I am..." He hesitated, tilting his head as she forced him to really think about how he was. He'd spent so much time trying to focus on others and moving forward that he'd been avoiding asking himself that question. His temper had been uneven, his actions bordering on reckless, and if he slowed down even a little he might stumble and fall. But he hadn't yet, so perhaps the key was to just keep running. "I am sorry," he said softly instead. "For not staying behind longer." He exhaled, flexing his empty hand before retracting it to fold over the other in his lap as he turned his eyes to Amalia's face with a quiet solemnity before a crooked not-smile touched his lips. "And I am alive, when so many others aren't. I do not think I have any right to do anything but hold up, at this point."

And you? he asked gently, in the privacy of the Attuned bond in case Amalia wished to rage or howl without an audience of nurses and other patients. Or even if she did, he wouldn't mind. In this place you hate? Is there really nowhere I can take you, just for an hour or two? The privacy of the Glade? Where Rory had once leaned on them and cried. Or the top of the Atheneum, to throw things at people passing by below? An image of them as children, small and rebellious, chucking paper airplanes and pebbles at distant targets who couldn't see them so high above.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#8

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


"That's not a real answer." Her tone is not unkind, but it is tired, dark eyes glancing over Jigano's angular features. She is tired of everyone tiptoeing around her, tired of honesty being left behind. Jigano's words are pretty as always, but they don't tell her anything particularly true.

She's tired of trying to pick out meaning from in between the lyrics of his pretty prose.

His invitation to take her out is met with a shake of her head again, weary frustration leaking into her mental voice. I told you that I'm not ready. Easily irate, she shifts in the bed, the anger that seems so close to the surface these days simmering in her chest.

Fixing Jigano with a narrow-eyed glance, Amalia wraps her arms around herself, trying to find the words to speak to him without losing her temper once again. What happened to us, Jigano?

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


Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#9
He shrugged, and if there was a weariness in it, well, perhaps he could be forgiven for that. They were all tired of the endless trauma and loss and pain that their world seemed to circle endlessly around. "I don't have a 'real' answer," he admitted. "I'm trying very hard not to think about it too much and just... push onward. I can't save those we've already lost. I can't heal the person I wish to most. I can't convince Rory to come back to the world when all it offers is more pain. All I can do is try to stay busy enough not to let it fester." He had broken down once, let himself be weak for a night in the arms of those he loved most... and look where that had led.

As always he had pushed too far, said too much, and he bowed his head contritely at the frustration in her mental tone. You're right, I'm sorry, he responded softly, turning to look out the window at the sunlight beyond, at a world she wanted no part of, that wanted so much more from her.

He glanced back as she wrapped her arms around herself, that gesture that he had seen her use so often when speaking with him since last Longheat. The one that meant she needed to protect herself from him, to hold in some anger or hurt that he had caused, and he curled his hands more tightly together into his lap as he looked down at Isuma instead, and the loving rumble of her purr as she tried to calm them both.

"We grew apart," he said sadly. "I wasn't there for you, when I should have been." He had shown her that he couldn't be depended on, and she had learned the lesson well. He had been blind, and arrogant, and hadn't listened, too certain in his own head that she needed him as much as he needed her. She didn't, though. Hadn't, for at least a year... perhaps she never had at all. He had left her when he should not have, had stayed when he should have left...

Had put every step wrong, in short, and continued to do so.

Perhaps what he loved was not Amalia as she was now but the memory of her, and of what it had been to have a family again, however briefly.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
MP: 2580
#10

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 shakes her head immediately at his second statement, tired and frustrated by their inability to communicate, the way they always seem to meet this impasse. Hugging herself tighter, Amalia bites her lips. She wishes she could pull her legs up to her chest, vanish into a ball of silence and childish resentment. What's the point of talking about it, when they never seem to hear what it is the other is trying to say?

It reminds her so acutely of fighting with her mother that the girl almost laughs, the humor mirthless and coiled like smoke in the bowels of her chest.

What is she supposed to say to him? No, you weren't. Yes, you were. I don't know. I don't know Feathers bristle over her shoulders, a ripple that cascades down her arms and ends upon her fingers, appearing and vanishing in an anxious wave. The fight or flight instinct is strong, and she cannot fly away.

But fighting is pointless, too. She fought with her mother, and she lost Rishima too soon for it. She does not want to repeat that mistake.

Inhale. Exhale. Take a breath. "Jigano, I... I hate when you say that. As though all of this - everything that's happened - was your fault." They are two, after all, are they not? "I... I said you treated me like a child, but you were right. I am a child. And I'm... I'm sorry, for not being stronger. I get angry, and I get hurt, and I didn't listen. But... I want to listen. To hear what's, what's really wrong. And, besides... I'm kind of a captive audience right now."

The last line is thrown in with some small amount of humor, hope to ease the weight of her words. She wishes he would open up with her, the way she tried to do with him. She wishes she could understand him better. She wishes for many things.

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


Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#11
He could see the ripple of feathers out of the corner of his eye, the protective impulse that ran through this fierce and fragile Shield, and he bit back a wince. She asked him questions but then didn't like his answers, and he didn't know what to do or say, anymore. Honesty only got him in trouble. Trying to be strong for her only made her angry. He would not blame her for what had come between them, not when he was the older one, the one who should have known better from the start.

Perhaps he should go for now, let her calm down, and come back tomorrow to try again? Isuma turned to look up at him with golden eyes that held a sad sheen, one he felt reflected in their bond, and he tried to smile for her, reaching out to the bed to brush his fingers over a blue-tipped feather. He was braced for Amalia to snap, anger and ire in his inability to measure up to what she expected of him flowing out in a cascade of vitriol he could not blame her for, not when she was in this place she hated because he had failed to protect her.

He wasn't so ready for the raw honesty that poured out instead, a break in the painfully polite conversation they'd been trying to hold until then. He looked up, startled, meeting her eyes more out of surprise than intention and he felt his throat grow tight at her apologies and requests. The joke, especially, struck home, a pang of guilt and hope in equal measure as he looked away, blinking as he pretended to examine her room more closely. "Not all," he said, finally slanting a glance back to the woman in the bed when he was sure his eyes wouldn't betray him. "But there are days - more often than not - when it feels like it is. I am not..." He trailed off, for once without the words he always seemed to have so near at hand, and he was forced to start again. "I have tried to let it go since coming here, Ama, but... guilt is something that has shaped me for a very long time. I don't think I would even know who I am or how to be without it." He found a smile, though it was a said, wounded thing - a wound far deeper and older than any the baker had caused. "And I am sorry that I treated you like a child. I never meant to. I... am not used to letting myself care for people. Coming here, meeting Rory, and you, and so many others that I let get close... and then losing so many..." He didn't realize he'd curled his hands into fists, or the tremors that went through them as he held himself rigid in the chair. "I was so afraid of losing you that I became overprotective, and didn't even realize I was driving you away until too late. And then, when I did realize I... I had no idea how to fix things. You and Rory are the two things in my life I don't want to run away from ever again, but I can't seem to find the right words to mend what has become so broken between us."

You don't need to be sorry for being human, he thought in the silence of the bond, where words were mixed with feelings of sorrow and love, regret and support. I never meant to force you to be strong. I wanted to be someone you could rely on, not to add to your burdens.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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MP: 2580
#12

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 listens in silence, trying to really hear, to take the words and understand them despite her own frustrations. It's something she knows she has to work on, especially if she is to build a relationship with Sam, to mend the bridges she's burnt with Wessex and Maea. Guilt is a dance partner she, took, knows intimately; she nods, her eyes closed briefly in sympathy as he mentions how it has shaped him. Guilt and grief and a jealous sort of insecurity, clinging tightly to the things they love for fear it will be stripped away.

They're not so different, the Sage and the Shield. Perhaps it is why they clash so much.

His silent statement nearly has her laughing, an eyebrow raised in wry amusement as she turns her gaze upon her friend. Neither do you, she remarks in return, a crooked smile pulling at her lips. "You always... you feel like you have to protect everyone, and like you're responsible for everything, but that's not human either."

Sighing, she settles back against the pillows, turning her eyes to the ceiling once more. It feels... it feels as though see me as something extraordinary, but also something to be protected. Like a piece of glass. And it feels like... like I can't make mistakes, because if I do you'll just blame yourself for them. I just... want you to see me as me. As a person with flaws. Because it's exhausting to always try and be good enough for you.

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


Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#13
She returned his advice back to him, just as true and timely, and her crooked smile teased the ghost of one from him as he nodded acknowledgment of her point, a pulse of agreement warming the Attuned bond. "Well, I've only been human for less than two years," he said softly, trying to tease a little, but watching her face closely to see her reaction. "There's a bit of a learning curve to it." Had he told her this before? There had always been so much to do, to prepare for, to recover from... when was the last time they really sat and talked when it didn't involve hurt feelings and anger?

Maybe that was why they'd come to this point, at the heart of it all. They had worked side-by-side for so long, and yet lost touch with each other along the way.

"You're... you're right, though. When I lead people into danger, I feel like it's my duty to protect them." He sighed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck ruefully. "Remi and I talked about it a little, once. About the power that we have being a weight as much as a gift. About the expectations people place on us for it... and that we place on ourselves." He looked up at her, knowing that of all people, Amalia would know. It had nothing to do with being a hybrid and everything to do with the weight of social responsibilities and expectations, and of their own. But he had made assumptions before that had been painfully incorrect, so this time he asked, and tried to listen to her reply. "Do you ever feel like that, too?"

He was quiet for a long time as she gave him honesty and he felt some of it twine around how he felt about her, too. He let his own gaze drop to Isuma's soft, purring form as he let the words soak in. They made sense, in a way that he'd never fully articulated to himself before, and though he wanted to protest some of them he swallowed it back. It was how Amalia saw his perception of her, and that mattered as much as how he thought he saw her. You are special to me, he thought back at last. But I never wanted to put that pressure on you. I didn't realize what a pedestal I had put you on. I'm sorry, Ama, for not seeing it sooner. He drew in a breath then found a smile for her, small and wry but warm. Tell me, please. How do you see yourself? What parts of you have I been blind to?
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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MP: 2580
#14

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


He has told her before, in sharing a little of his history, his world, and even if it's half-forgotten it's less unsettling now than perhaps a year before. Amalia has seen and experienced and known so much; a man who wasn't a man before coming here is the least of her concerns.

"Stop... Stop thinking about it as leading people," she suggests, a teasing and tired quirk to her lips. "Stop acting like we aren't your equals- like we don't make the choice to do things, and you have to be responsible for us." Her voice is a little bit sharp; clearly he's struck a nerve. Shaking her head, she leans forward on the bed. "I know you're strong, but so am I. So is Deimos, and Kiada, and everyone else in their own way. You... It feels like you forget that, sometimes."

It's a contradiction to the rest of her point, perhaps- that she is flawed, that she is weak. That she doesn't deserve to be on a pedestal. She can feel her frustration rising up again, less with him than her own inability to accurately explain her feelings on the matter. Her back arches as she stretches forward, fingers tracking down to wrap around her calves

I'm scared. Amalia exhales, dark eyes falling closed. I'm stubborn. I'm anxious all the time. But I'm... I'm a person. Just like you. I'm doing my best, and sometimes it's not very good, and sometimes it's okay. I'm fragile, but you don't have to try to protect me all the time. You're not responsible for me. You're not my father. Just... Just be my friend.

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




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