AmaLIa
shield of safrin
Don't you get tired of it? Tucking her lip between her teeth, Amalia begins to worry it while her fingers sharpen to claws. Like a cat she kneads her legs for comfort, fingers tightening and loosing around the slender calves, the bony shins. Tired of trying and being strong- but oh, he is always strong, the bulwark against the storm, the mountain beneath a winter's gale. He is all smooth edges and and constancy and iron and ice and stone, never breaking, never bowing.
Not even to her.
She tries to bite back her frustration at another measured, logical response. She doesn't want to be reasonable right now, can't understand how he can so easily make plans to memorialize them while the smell of Adam still fills this house. She ought to tuck her anger away, to hide it from him as she always does - shelter the broken parts of herself beneath his steadfast and stalwart presence.
The claws clench tighter on her legs, leaving red marks, threatening to tear the fabric. She knows she ought to be good enough for him, but she doesn't have it in her today.
"Fine." Flat and apathetic and a little acerbic behind it all. He's trying to hard to be there for her, but she can't just pretend it's all okay. That it will ever be okay. "Whatever you want. Let's just... just take some of their things and make a nice little statue and pretend it makes up for the fact that they're dead. That sounds fine to me."
Not even to her.
She tries to bite back her frustration at another measured, logical response. She doesn't want to be reasonable right now, can't understand how he can so easily make plans to memorialize them while the smell of Adam still fills this house. She ought to tuck her anger away, to hide it from him as she always does - shelter the broken parts of herself beneath his steadfast and stalwart presence.
The claws clench tighter on her legs, leaving red marks, threatening to tear the fabric. She knows she ought to be good enough for him, but she doesn't have it in her today.
"Fine." Flat and apathetic and a little acerbic behind it all. He's trying to hard to be there for her, but she can't just pretend it's all okay. That it will ever be okay. "Whatever you want. Let's just... just take some of their things and make a nice little statue and pretend it makes up for the fact that they're dead. That sounds fine to me."
you can't choose what stays
and what fades away
and what fades away
