[Mini Event] (SE) like rats out of a sinking ship

Still sad, still coveting the comfort her companion can give, Wessex hears Amalia but speaks to the dragon - for there is safety in her heart-bonded and what is between the two Grounders is not safe. The Wraith lifts a forearm to her ear, listening intently, brow furrowed for a good long minute before she shakes her head. “No, Eirachi is quiet,” she says, quite childlike in her despair and disappointment. Like a kid who’s been sick for far too long, it’s wearing on her resolve - this relentless, relentless tapping at her body as her systems identify the wrongness and then promptly forget. “The metal…” she begins, scrunching her face up as she tries to remember. “Is new. Like me and Osozo and Azrael. It will help.” Of this, she is quite sure. “But I don’t know what it is and Loren -” Now the Wraith half-growls, half-cries, so frustrated is she in her failure. “Hides it so I can’t see.” Turning to Amalia, eyes wide and honest and lost, the Queen tries so. hard To articulate her thoughts, taking her time to find the right words. “Ama, my eyes can see more. They could help, cause… we need a new cure for new people. Water is old. Old old old. Only new ways for new people, you see? The metal? Not water.” WESSEX come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts unsex me here

Amalia

the shield of safrin

Dropping down cautiously, Amalia comes to stand beside Wessex. Half of her is still terrified of the woman, but the helplessness, the frustration... it pains her to see her once-friend reduced like this. She spent enough time with the illness not to wish it on anyone else. Slowly, carefully, she reaches out, trying to take the Wraith's hand in hers, to look into her eyes and make sense of what is being said.

"What did you see, Wessex?" Amalia murmurs, rubbing her thumb cautiously over the back of Wessex's hand if she'll allow. "The metal... is that what the Ascended need to be well? Will it be a permanent cure?"

make peace with your broken pieces

“The writing,” she answers truthfully. “What did you see?” The question causes a bit of a titter to herself, because of course Amalia does not see. She just judges. But even that thought isn’t enough to cause ire in the Wraith right now. She lets her hand be taken, leaning against whatever may be nearby that will support her weight. “Mmmmm. Yes. Yes.” Yes, Amalia sums it up well. The Wraith pats the cool marble like a pillow, though of course it doesn’t budge. Oh well, it’s a good enough pillow. Turning back to the other demigod, she seems to look clearly at the girl and says very matter-of-factly. “Hide the metal and you’ll kill us, Loren.” It is Loren who sits before her, it is not? With that tawny mane of hair? "But then you'd do that out of pure suspicion, wouldn't you?" Sing-songy, the Wraith laughs again, the bitter truth surprisingly funny right now. WESSEX come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts unsex me here

Amalia

the shield of safrin

"I saw water. And it helped me, which is why..." She trails off as Wessex leans against the support of the pillar, her throat clenching with complicated guilt. Black eyes hunt blue, looking for understanding that in this instance, they are on the same side. "I thought it would help, Wessex. I didn't... I didn't know."

The accusation is a slap in the face for the Shield, in part because it holds some truth. Given the choice between saving the Ascended but making the Voice stronger, or weakening the Voice at the cost of the Ascended, Amalia does not know what she would do. Her feet are on a path she does not fully understand, but has committed to nonetheless, leaving no room for error. It is a path that takes her further and further from the older woman who despite their differences the girl still loves.

It is a path that will lead them back together, she is sure, though not to reconcile.

"I'll... I'll try to help. I promise." Blinking back tears, Amalia gives Wessex's hand one last squeeze before stepping away. "I'm... I'm going to go now. Please stay safe, Wessex. I... I love you. And I'm sorry."

And then she turns to make a swift retreat before her tears have the chance to fall.

{fin}

make peace with your broken pieces