we cannot become what we want to be by remaining what we are
Amalia has found an alcove in the Tower, down what seems to be a little-used hall, in which she sits and sews. It's not too far from the quarters she's been given, but far enough that she has some faith she won't be easily found. It isn't that she wants to shirk her newfound duties; the Shield simply needs a moment to be with her own thoughts.
It's been a long time since she sat down with needle and thread, and the skills she was once mildly adept with have degraded in that span. But the pattern she's following is one she knows well, a simple puppet of black silk that she learned to make as a girl. It's soothing, really, to fall back into such an old habit, tapping memories of familiar times in this unfamiliar place.
She's humming a melody to herself when the man draws near, too focused on her work and her song to notice the approach. Her back is pressed against the wall, feet tucked up on the bench, hair pulled back in a long gold plait that nearly reaches her waist. When she finally looks up it is almost like a startled deer, the expression immediately warming as she recognizes the figure. "Finn?" Amalia exclaims as the song dies, putting down her puppet and rising to her feet. "You- I- How are you?"
It's been a long time since she sat down with needle and thread, and the skills she was once mildly adept with have degraded in that span. But the pattern she's following is one she knows well, a simple puppet of black silk that she learned to make as a girl. It's soothing, really, to fall back into such an old habit, tapping memories of familiar times in this unfamiliar place.
She's humming a melody to herself when the man draws near, too focused on her work and her song to notice the approach. Her back is pressed against the wall, feet tucked up on the bench, hair pulled back in a long gold plait that nearly reaches her waist. When she finally looks up it is almost like a startled deer, the expression immediately warming as she recognizes the figure. "Finn?" Amalia exclaims as the song dies, putting down her puppet and rising to her feet. "You- I- How are you?"
Amalia
