Amalia
the shield of safrin
Amalia is not here to pray.
She's come to the woodland to clear her head, searching for clarity and space through movement. There was a time when she would practice regularly with her staff, finding respite from her thoughts in the act of breathing, the way her muscles ached from a workout. These days Amalia is rarely sore, but the weakness of mind remains.
Breathe in. Dark eyes close; she adjusts her grip on the hilt of her blade, aware of the shield on her arm, the balance she has to strike. Breathe out: a sweeping downward strike, silver arcing through the air, her weight shifting in the follow-through, body chasing the blade.
She opens her eyes, and that's when she sees it: a metallic glint through the trees. It registers something in her memory, but she cannot quite place what. Nova still held loosely in her grasp, Amalia steps toward the creature, reaching out in a mental voice that will reach companions and animals as well as Attuned: "Hello?
She's come to the woodland to clear her head, searching for clarity and space through movement. There was a time when she would practice regularly with her staff, finding respite from her thoughts in the act of breathing, the way her muscles ached from a workout. These days Amalia is rarely sore, but the weakness of mind remains.
Breathe in. Dark eyes close; she adjusts her grip on the hilt of her blade, aware of the shield on her arm, the balance she has to strike. Breathe out: a sweeping downward strike, silver arcing through the air, her weight shifting in the follow-through, body chasing the blade.
She opens her eyes, and that's when she sees it: a metallic glint through the trees. It registers something in her memory, but she cannot quite place what. Nova still held loosely in her grasp, Amalia steps toward the creature, reaching out in a mental voice that will reach companions and animals as well as Attuned: "Hello?
everything that drowned me
taught me how to swim
taught me how to swim
