AmaLIa
shield of safrin
She's tired. He's tired. So what's the point of it all? Turning her head, she wipes her nose upon her legs, leaving trails of snot upon her pants and utterly unapologetic. She's facing away from Deimos now, her eyes unfocused as she stares at Adam's room, his things, the mess just waiting for him to come home. Then why do we keep trying? Head on her knees, Amalia sighs heavily. What's the point?
Her body shudders with her heavy inhale, lungs shivering, breathing noisily through her mouth. Maybe he is familiar with loss and picking himself back up again, but for Amalia each blow feels like it has dragged her in deeper, pressed her more firmly into the mire. Her grandmother, her mother, and so many more-
But oh, if this isn't the worst one of all.
Does she want to do something to honor them? "What..." she begins, her voice a croak, teeth coming back together in a sudden wash of frustration. "...do you think we should do? To honor them? We don't even have their bodies, Deimos. We don't even know if their souls will make it to Mort."
Her body shudders with her heavy inhale, lungs shivering, breathing noisily through her mouth. Maybe he is familiar with loss and picking himself back up again, but for Amalia each blow feels like it has dragged her in deeper, pressed her more firmly into the mire. Her grandmother, her mother, and so many more-
But oh, if this isn't the worst one of all.
Does she want to do something to honor them? "What..." she begins, her voice a croak, teeth coming back together in a sudden wash of frustration. "...do you think we should do? To honor them? We don't even have their bodies, Deimos. We don't even know if their souls will make it to Mort."
you can't choose what stays
and what fades away
and what fades away
