[DROP] It'll take your breath away

a m a l i a More people arrive, falling, as she did, through the thin layer of ice. Some are familiar, most are not; Amalia regards them with curiosity, interest and anxiety rising in her chest. This could either be beautiful or disastrous- a clever plot, a well-laid trap, so easily luring in an array of prey. Or perhaps they are being rewarded, gifted something new and wondrous. Perhaps nothing will happen at all. A voice echoes through the chamber, pure as glittering ice. It takes Amalia a moment to find its source: a girl, young and vibrant, reflected from nothing upon the ground, whose movement cause the cavern to quake. Steadying herself, Amalia swallows as her stomach drops, not only at the movement but at the suggestion of their host. Vi, she thinks, Protect me. Though beautiful, there is a hint of malice in the construct, a cruelty in asking strangers to voice their secrets aloud. Amalia cannot help but listen as regrets begin to echo through the cavern, whispered and stated, a broken-hearted hymn. Some are verbose, some concise; it is not the words she clings to, but the feeling, the sensations of sadness leaving a dozen sets of lips. And what does the girl have to offer? Licking her own lips, Amalia sighs, her alto another note in this bittersweet aria. Everything? "I regret not being better," she answers simply, an all-encompassing statement reflective of her state of being. Always anxious, always unsure - the baker is a bedfellow of remorse, wanderer through the wilderness of mistakes, a dweller on details and a purveyor of the past.