Amalia
a certain darkness is needed to see the stars
✩
"I know you are." Amalia says this with measured sagacity and certainty, intoned into the darkness of the quivering night. She looks at him and sees an ocean, beautiful and terrible, something she could drown in. And she wants to, to dive in and lose herself in the ease of being his, but something holds her back. She's thirsty, but the water scares her.
Who did she lose? A face comes to her, swims in the stars, dark hair and pale skin and beautiful ice-blue eyes. "I lost Kiada," Amalia murmurs, sadness in her eyes. "She dove into the lava and swam down and down and down, deeper than I could see."
She can picture it: the flash of fire, the surge of delicious, terrible heat. The vulture reaching and falling, falling, diving deep below the surface, outside of her view.
"I think she's lost. I need to find her so you can be whole again."
Who did she lose? A face comes to her, swims in the stars, dark hair and pale skin and beautiful ice-blue eyes. "I lost Kiada," Amalia murmurs, sadness in her eyes. "She dove into the lava and swam down and down and down, deeper than I could see."
She can picture it: the flash of fire, the surge of delicious, terrible heat. The vulture reaching and falling, falling, diving deep below the surface, outside of her view.
"I think she's lost. I need to find her so you can be whole again."
