take a sad song

A m a l i a She's got this sort of steadying presence that Amalia vaguely recognizes as both comforting and upsetting. It reminds her of someone long since gone, who also had dark hair and dark skin and the ability to ask pressing questions in a way that should make people panic but weirdly sets them at ease. "Mama?" she wonders in a whisper, barely audible, brow still furrowed. She blinks and the face is who it is, not who it was, not Rishima. "You act like a doctor," the Shield mumbles. "My mother was a doctor but she still got sick. That doesn't seem right." There's comfort in knowing Mort will be glad to see her, or there should be at least. Shaking her head in swift denial, the girl curls up again. "I was supposed to be something different. I wanted to belong to Vi. Is this my punishment for letting them die?" She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine