Amalia
a certain darkness is needed to see the stars
✩
The scone has been reduced to crumbs; the Shield places her head on her palms, elbows on the table. The suggestion has Amalia quirking her lips uncertainly, looking up at Safrin. "If I went to speak to her... you wouldn't be angry?" She would like to ask these questions of the Voice, to hear what paltry excuses the false goddess might give, but not if it would go against her own deity's wishes. "Sam offered to take me, but... I wouldn't want to go to her if it would be against your will."
