born from dark water, daughter of the rain and snow
She only wants to feel vindicated, to have things righted once again, but gods if she isn't tired. And it feels like so much work to be angry now, and she's so hot and weary and her skin is covered in feathers and the bed is like a life raft and they're castaway at sea. "You can't go home. We're on a boat." Suddenly Amalia feels very certain she absolutely cannot get off of it, because if she does she'll sink down into the watery floor and drown.
At the same time she is thirsty. It's confusing, to say the least.
She turns away from him a little, though doesn't withdraw her hand. Like him she needs an anchor to something tangible and real to hold onto while the world spins around them. Except he isn't real, not really, not in the way she thought. "Why did you pretend to be my friend?" Amalia asks softly, her alto voice raw with childlike grief. "Why'd you lie and let me think you liked me cus'a me? I know you work with the peacock. For the circus. Phoebe told me. I thought that we were friends."
At the same time she is thirsty. It's confusing, to say the least.
She turns away from him a little, though doesn't withdraw her hand. Like him she needs an anchor to something tangible and real to hold onto while the world spins around them. Except he isn't real, not really, not in the way she thought. "Why did you pretend to be my friend?" Amalia asks softly, her alto voice raw with childlike grief. "Why'd you lie and let me think you liked me cus'a me? I know you work with the peacock. For the circus. Phoebe told me. I thought that we were friends."
shield of safrin
