Amalia
the shield of safrin
Maea recants her words quickly enough, and though Amalia considers saying more the Shield holds her tongue. She more than anyone knows how fulfilling it can be to believe one holds an ultimate place in the affection of the gods; if the older girl falls prey to hubris from time to time, who is the baker to comment or judge?Instead she asks a question she hopes never to have to answer herself: "What would you do, if it asked you to do it?" Her expression bears no judgment, only open curiosity, genuinely interested to know the answer Maea will give. Chosen of Ludo, shepherd of Death... Could she be its weapon as willingly as Roana had? It feels impossible for the Maea Amalia grew up beside to take up a reaper's scythe, but then the older girl has changed a lot in the time since they fell apart.
They both have.
Amalia's fingers tighten on the bench when Maea bring up her mysterious absence again, but she manages to hold her tongue. Mending bridges means keeping fire away from the dry and exposed wood, as her grandmother would have said; if nothing else, she owes it to her Nani to try. "I'm sorry, too," Amalia says softly, staring into the falling snow. "I was... Not my best, when you came to see me."
Running a hand through her gold hair, the Shield turns back to Maea with she shadow of a grin. "Does this mean you're not going to beat me up?"
someday we'll find what we're looking for
or maybe not
maybe we'll find something much greater
