and look for the stars as the sun goes down
each breath that you take has a thunderous sound
each breath that you take has a thunderous sound
Even skimming the surface of Amalia's emotions is slipping into the deep end of a torrential, surging sea. It's a testament to Remi that he doesn't drown in it.
Gods know the Shield does often enough.
The sudden gasp of anguish and the tightening of his grip catches Amalia by surprise. At first she thinks it is in response to the confession she has made; then she wonders if perhaps Ludo - or Remi - have changed their minds about her mortality being at an end. But no, there is something more to his voice, a haunting tone that is all too familiar, and yet the girl is lost. "Remi? Are you...?" Her voice breaks before she can add the last okay?, throat sore from salt and screams refusing to allow more.
I feel you, the Alchemist says, which makes no sense because of course he does, cradled in his arms as he is. She does not turn around, isn't sure she can given the strength with which he holds her; instead she reaches to take his hand in hers, rubbing gently over the knuckles, at a loss for what more to do. I'm right here. I feel you, too, she says simply, silently, speaking into his mind. Hope flickers in the wealth of pain, an olive branch extended despite the hurt they've brought each other. If you still want me, I... you don't have be alone.
Gods know the Shield does often enough.
The sudden gasp of anguish and the tightening of his grip catches Amalia by surprise. At first she thinks it is in response to the confession she has made; then she wonders if perhaps Ludo - or Remi - have changed their minds about her mortality being at an end. But no, there is something more to his voice, a haunting tone that is all too familiar, and yet the girl is lost. "Remi? Are you...?" Her voice breaks before she can add the last okay?, throat sore from salt and screams refusing to allow more.
I feel you, the Alchemist says, which makes no sense because of course he does, cradled in his arms as he is. She does not turn around, isn't sure she can given the strength with which he holds her; instead she reaches to take his hand in hers, rubbing gently over the knuckles, at a loss for what more to do. I'm right here. I feel you, too, she says simply, silently, speaking into his mind. Hope flickers in the wealth of pain, an olive branch extended despite the hurt they've brought each other. If you still want me, I... you don't have be alone.
Amalia
