A spoonful of sugar

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