Amalia
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
"I've never been accused of playing mother before." Amalia's cheeks flush at the appearance of the god, though much to her relief it is not from the too-familiar arousal they usually inspire. Indeed, this is a Frey she feels far more comfortable with, the allure of nature and a a springtime breeze strangely comforting to the girl.
Still kneeling reverently before them, the Shield dares to glance up at the figure on the stone. Still naked and largely undefined, Amalia can recognize the things she associates most with life in their features - particularly the mocha skin and spiced aroma of her mother's perfume. "The first was a promise I made to you," the baker admits to the deity, "That I would help the Spark Bird find its way home this year.
"My second promise was to help a herd of unicorns make their way through the lightning storms, back to their home." Now looking fully at the god, Amalia hopes the humility she feels is evident in her face. "I hoped that you might have some guidance... that you could help them. Or help me do so."
Still kneeling reverently before them, the Shield dares to glance up at the figure on the stone. Still naked and largely undefined, Amalia can recognize the things she associates most with life in their features - particularly the mocha skin and spiced aroma of her mother's perfume. "The first was a promise I made to you," the baker admits to the deity, "That I would help the Spark Bird find its way home this year.
"My second promise was to help a herd of unicorns make their way through the lightning storms, back to their home." Now looking fully at the god, Amalia hopes the humility she feels is evident in her face. "I hoped that you might have some guidance... that you could help them. Or help me do so."
