Amalia
I sat with my anger long enough
In the hours after she leaves the shore, the remnants of her mistakes echo and rattle like skeletons in her head. A restful vacation it was not; Amalia has been left more uncertain than ever, wrapped in her doubts and unsettled in a shifting world. Her marriage, her place in the world, her friendships, her family... the Shield doesn't know where she stands with any of it.
But one thing she knows for sure - perhaps the only thing, today - is that she has to speak to Nephele.
There's whispers in the trees of where the Fae can be found. Quiet and stealthy as her kind is, even Nephele cannot hide from the birds in the woods, and Amalia in this instance has no qualms about using them to find her query.
"Nephele. We need to talk." Stepping out from the canopy, the Shield holds no illusions that the woman does not know she's there. Only this time, unlike their last encounter, the baker stands with her back straight, dark eyes serious and severe. She has made a mistake she needs to rectify; she is searching for control.
But one thing she knows for sure - perhaps the only thing, today - is that she has to speak to Nephele.
There's whispers in the trees of where the Fae can be found. Quiet and stealthy as her kind is, even Nephele cannot hide from the birds in the woods, and Amalia in this instance has no qualms about using them to find her query.
"Nephele. We need to talk." Stepping out from the canopy, the Shield holds no illusions that the woman does not know she's there. Only this time, unlike their last encounter, the baker stands with her back straight, dark eyes serious and severe. She has made a mistake she needs to rectify; she is searching for control.
until she told me her real name was grief
