born from dark water, daughter of the rain and snow
He moves away and instead of retreating Amalia just pursues, too tired to adjust her trajectory or energy. She collapses onto her knees on the bed, hovering at the edge of a dangerous precipice which can lead to either continued righteous indignation or succumbing to exhaustion and comfort. Both sounds good, and both sounds awful, and she has no idea what she wants.
So she chooses neither, wobbling unsteadily, the baguette her only source of support.
"My mother died from an infection." She's not sure why they're talking about their mothers now, but she's too hazy to follow the thread back to her initial point. "We didn't talk for two- three?- years before that." Her chest clenches as she thinks of it, tears again threatening to spill.
Which may have been his plan.
"Hey- hey!" Amalia's eyes light up again, the snarl returning to her lips. "You already knew that, though, didn't you, Finn Roastedantz- or whatever your name really is. This is just another trick, isn't it? Another lie." She's sweating profusely, and her legs tremble as she balances on the bed. Gods, Amalia is tired. All she wants is a nap.
So she chooses neither, wobbling unsteadily, the baguette her only source of support.
"My mother died from an infection." She's not sure why they're talking about their mothers now, but she's too hazy to follow the thread back to her initial point. "We didn't talk for two- three?- years before that." Her chest clenches as she thinks of it, tears again threatening to spill.
Which may have been his plan.
"Hey- hey!" Amalia's eyes light up again, the snarl returning to her lips. "You already knew that, though, didn't you, Finn Roastedantz- or whatever your name really is. This is just another trick, isn't it? Another lie." She's sweating profusely, and her legs tremble as she balances on the bed. Gods, Amalia is tired. All she wants is a nap.
shield of safrin
