make peace with your broken pieces
Amalia has seen very few people who are not sick, in the days since she lost herself, and there's something painfully comforting in his steady, confident presence beside her while the world falls apart. "You're a good friend, Ronin," she murmurs softly, leaning for a moment against his hand before her attention returns to the sea before her, vigilance in her rigid posture. "Nothing has been the way it's supposed to be. The ocean wants to drown us. It's hungry. Can't you feel it?"
She looks away from the ocean when he presses her hands to the canteen, blinking down in some surprise to find it still in place. "Drink...?" she wonders, then shakes her head, swallowing nothing into her parched throat. "It's water from the lava land. I'm afraid to drink it. What if it's full of fire, and I burn up like a torch?" She licks her lips, tasting blood, and raises the canteen. Burning from the inside out sounds like a lovely idea, in truth.
She looks away from the ocean when he presses her hands to the canteen, blinking down in some surprise to find it still in place. "Drink...?" she wonders, then shakes her head, swallowing nothing into her parched throat. "It's water from the lava land. I'm afraid to drink it. What if it's full of fire, and I burn up like a torch?" She licks her lips, tasting blood, and raises the canteen. Burning from the inside out sounds like a lovely idea, in truth.
shield of safrin
