AmaLIa
shield of safrin
Should he have grabbed them? Should she? So many things could have been different, and yet what difference would it make? Amalia shudders, her sobs quieter now but still present. She is slender, still weak from weeks of sickness; she is bones and sinew in his arms, trembling against the mountain of her discontent.
Slowly, though, the crying slows, the sobs still there but growing fainter. Too tired to continue on forever, she can feel exhaustion creeping in, hungry fingers in the corners of her mine enticing her to spiral down to darkness. I'm so tired, she whispers silently, her mental voice seeping out like water from a breaking dam.
I don't know... I don't want to keep trying anymore. I don't know what to do. She still doesn't look up, doesn't uncoil, but the tension of her shoulders is bleeding away, exhaustion and misery in its place. Grief rises off of her in clouds of shadow; it would be so much easier to just collapse. She doesn't want to hold herself together anymore.
Slowly, though, the crying slows, the sobs still there but growing fainter. Too tired to continue on forever, she can feel exhaustion creeping in, hungry fingers in the corners of her mine enticing her to spiral down to darkness. I'm so tired, she whispers silently, her mental voice seeping out like water from a breaking dam.
I don't know... I don't want to keep trying anymore. I don't know what to do. She still doesn't look up, doesn't uncoil, but the tension of her shoulders is bleeding away, exhaustion and misery in its place. Grief rises off of her in clouds of shadow; it would be so much easier to just collapse. She doesn't want to hold herself together anymore.
you can't choose what stays
and what fades away
and what fades away
