Amalia
the shield of safrin
"No, but you don't need a bakery to bake," she points out, pleased that he's sat down to eat alongside her. It makes it feel a little less awkward, despite the lingering tension in the room (and the strange little army of monkeys which continues diligently crafting away). The stew is good, and Amalia savors it, slowly swallowing down a bite as he accepts her apology at last.
And then there's the question, and it is the Shield's turn to go quiet and stare, looking in her bowl a moment as she gathers up her thoughts. "I was living with them," she answers at last, raising her eyes back up to Loren. "When I got your letter. And we were all- we needed a cure. Then they told Morgan, and it all got out of hand." A wry, mirthless smile pulls at her lips as she taps her spoon on the edge of the bowl. "We were all a little crazy for a while. I'm glad you're well now."
And then there's the question, and it is the Shield's turn to go quiet and stare, looking in her bowl a moment as she gathers up her thoughts. "I was living with them," she answers at last, raising her eyes back up to Loren. "When I got your letter. And we were all- we needed a cure. Then they told Morgan, and it all got out of hand." A wry, mirthless smile pulls at her lips as she taps her spoon on the edge of the bowl. "We were all a little crazy for a while. I'm glad you're well now."
she's just like the weather
can't hold her together
can't hold her together
