she who loved you yesterday
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
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#15
A M A L I A


The goddess' hand is both warm and cold, smooth and soft, supple and firm; she wants to sink into its perspective, but the changing landscape draws her back. The perspective shifts, the world turns, and Amalia sees a new version of the scene, one that speaks a different story, details hitherto unnoticed. "She's an image," the sunlit girl breathes, her voice smoke in the darkness, a hushed understanding - or so she hopes. Is this the secret? The thing she missed?  "Then... is she still inside there?" Her gaze seeks Safrin's for confirmation, brow furrowed in focused puzzlement and mild bemusement. It has been a whirlwind day.

But there are still more questions, still more to understand, and the girl is ravenous now that she has tasted knowledge, her pounding head and fluttering heart aching for still more. Tired, hopeful, unwilling to resign, Amalia struggles to organize her thoughts. "The world you showed me, the one out there... will we ever get to see it?" she asks, wistful and wanting, already doubtful of assent. Sadness and severity lurks in her eyes: she gazes into Safrin's infinite face and wonders if the goddess is lonely, too. "Do you miss it? And them?"





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#16
Safrin

“Yes.” Safrin agrees. “It is the Spire that contains them. What you did was merely to open their network. A setback to be sure, but not one that you could have foreseen.”

Amalia’s next question causes even the goddess’s expression to waiver, and she sighs gently. Is it with resignation? Tempered hope? Uncertainty? Her galactic features are so unreadable, especially in the dim twilight she has created around them. “I can show it to you.” She murmurs, perhaps still a bit prickled that Ludo let one of them see through the barrier without having mentioned anything to her before hand. “But whether or not you would see it for yourself?” She falls silent. Safrin cannot openly applaud their efforts to escape after all. It goes against what the old ones want.

And yet..

“More than you can know.” She whispers gently, turning her star-speckled gaze towards the sun girl. “Vi is my life, but he is also my life. I am his you might say. Being away from him is like a night without stars.” Her metaphor especially apt, given her aesthetics. Humming slightly, Safrin smiles warmly. “Your dedication to them, despite their complete absence from your existence...it is admirable, Amalia.”
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#17
A M A L I A


"What about the demon?" Once, she believed the spire monster was there to keep them from freeing the Old Gods- but now the girl's perspective is warped, and Amalia is left with more questions than she could have foreseen. If the Old Gods made the spire to keep the New Ones in, did they too create the beast that guards it, responsible as it is for so very many deaths? This thought chills her, and though she does not believe it, cannot believe it, a part of her gnaws with hungry doubt. Onyx eyes search Safrin's inscrutable face, looking for some sign, some answer, that her Gods are not responsible. That even in their absence, they love the ones they have doomed.

Safrin makes no promises of the outside world, and Amalia grows concerned, her foolishness at asking such a thing at once apparent. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, head bowed. "I was wrong to ask, I just..." want it, her heart sings, but her lips fall still. It is selfish to want, cruel to ask, now that she understands why the cage was built - it is a prison, not for them, but for the beasts they made. To demand that prison be felled so she might taste a world she does not even know... it is selfish, arrogant, and against the will of her Gods.

And yet...

As the Goddess speaks of Vi the baker softens slightly, her affection for the absent god filling and warming the quiet girl. That Safrin is his, a vassal of him... it brings fluttering delight to Amalia's thread, a yearning sense of kinship with this trapped deity, this beautiful being to whom she will never be equal, but perhaps in time may aspire to serve. "Thank you," she whispers from behind a bowed head, her cheeks coloring in the Goddess' grace, "But they are not absent, not to me. They are with me in the world they created for us, in the stories my grandmother would tell me, in the life we live every day... and in you." Looking up at Safrin the girl smiles, radiant and hopeful, happy and at peace. "Thank you for answering my prayer, Your Radiance. It is good to know we are not alone in this world, even if the Old Ones cannot be here."





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#18
Safrin

Safrin crinkled her nose in response. "Demon? No. It is merely a testament to the fact that the new gods are not quite so clever as they think they are. " She replied, the beginnings of a haughty smile on her lips before it is wiped away. Whatever superiority she feels over the ascended and their maniacal plight is somewhat hindered by the fact that she too has been imprisoned in here because of them.

"You can ask anything darling one. There are some answers that even I cannot give, but what I can, I will always share with you." Safrin offered, a gift greater than any she had given yet.

Stardust swirled gaze met onyx, and Safrin nods. She does not have a heart that yearns the way Amalia's does, and yet something in her effervescent soul is warmed by the notion that she might still yet carry the brilliance of those she serves. Of him.

"Just Safrin, dear one." She corrects with a sweet smile. "You will never be alone, not if you keep Vi's name on your heart.  And if your days grow short and your time ends in here, I will tell him your name, when we are reunited." Extending a gentle had to caress the side of Amalia's cheek, the goddess offered her a resolute smile, breathing strength into the baker's gentle but stout heart. "If you ever wish to be closer, to be attuned with all that has been created for you, you know where to find me."
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#19
A M A L I A


Safrin calls her darling one, and the lonely baker blooms beneath this affirmation that resembles something like praise. Happily she smiles, for a moment content to believe in the impossible - that she is special, that she matters, that it is her piety which has earned this attention, her inherent goodness that brings about the goddess' grace. Oh, most of her knows this is unlikely, untrue, but the girl cannot help but succumb to hope: to have her prayers answered is more than she could have asked, and Amalia is content, for now, to bask in the unlikely success, denying the insecurity which often plagues her thoughts. It will still be there tomorrow, after all.

The promise of answers is greater than any gift Safrin could offer: knowledge is something the young loreseeker values, even if she does not have a great deal of it yet. "I have so many questions" the girl confesses, bashful and earnest, eager and shy. "And you have answered so many already. I want to know everything, all about the world, both here and outside, and the Old Ones, and- and you-" She stops suddenly, catching herself and drawing short before her tongue can continue to run away. A blush spreads across her cheeks and she turns her eyes back to the floor. Her mother would say she needs to slow down. Her grandmother would tell her to keep learning all she can.

"Safrin," Amalia repeats, the name a quiet caress on her heavy tongue. It feels like a secret, an allowance of closeness scarcely earned. To be familiar with a goddess - an avatar of her god! - ah, but it is both exhilarating and terrifying, and the baker wonders not for the first time if this is actually real. Her promises are drops in the cup of Amalia's happiness, filling the girl's heart more than she thought anything could. The soft caress of Safrin's fingers glitters like starlight upon her cheek, and Amalia can hear her own breath quicken as the goddess makes an invitation Amalia cannot refuse. "I- I do!" she answers quickly. "Want to be closer. I want to serve, to be better, I..."

Dark eyes close with a shuddering sigh, her voice a whispered confession, a plea. "I want to be better," the girl repeats, laying bare the deepest wish of her heart. "To be good enough to earn their love. To be... better."





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#20
Safrin

Safrin laughs warmly, as if this small revelation on Amalia's part is somehow a surprise. The goddess needs none of her long-sight to feel the bubbling anticipation that perhaps now, after all this time, perhaps her questions will be answered. Still, the girl is young as is her mind. She needs time to meditate on what she has been told already, to let it fill the slots that mystery and land mortality have left in her thoughts. Still, there is more she can offer just now, before it becomes too much.

"There will be time. Of that I can assure you." Safrin encourages, her smile bemused and her eyes gently adoring as she gazes down. "There was an old tomb in the underground. Long before it was so—before the collapse—books written by the first to be trapped within. Perhaps you would find them interesting? If you wish to seek them out, speak my name at the entrance of the ruined waterway, and all will be revealed to you.

"Rae fashions nothing but that which will suit the world best, and Vi breathes life into only that deserving of it. You are good Amalia. We seek only to be closer to you. If that is what you wish, then take my hand."

Gently, Safrin extends her hands. Open so that her palms face upwards, all of creation seems to subtly sparkle there in the shifting sands of her skin. The rise and fall of mountains, the tiders and oceans that once covered the globe before Caido saw fit to build. The whisper of life breathing through the trees and the echo of love in the clouds. "Take my hand, and I shall show you his face.." She whispers and the world falls silent and dark, lit only by the power resonating in Safrin's hands.






Amalia has been given a quest! If she speaks Safrin's name at the entrance of the underground, she will be shown the way to a tomb of books! This should be a PQ if you want to complete it.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: shark Offline
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Posts: 3,098 | Total: 4,577
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#21
A M A L I A


Starstruck and overwhelmed, Amalia can do little more than smile, her pious heart singing at the promise of more knowledge, and a task. It is enough to make her momentarily forget her last foray into the Underground, and her loathing of the unyielding darkness within. "I do," she answers eagerly, "I will." She would brave any terror, overcome any trial in the name of her gods - or so she earnestly believes in this moment, invigorated as she is by the affirmation of the goddess, the fervor of her worship.

Somehow, unbelievably, the gifts do not end there. The gentle careless of the goddess' fingers is matched in comfort only by her words, and when she speaks Amalia feels starlight wrapping around her like an embrace. 'You are good,' Safrin whispers, and behind closed eyes the girl feels tears of elated relief, of wonder and hope. And when the goddess extends her hands and promises to show the face of a god, of her god, what can Amalia do but laughs, a choked and joyful sound that rings out through the glittering twilight as she slips her fingers into the goddess' grasp, her youthful face lit by eager fervor, ardent adoration.

For once, when the world falls dark, Amalia isn't afraid.





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#22
Safrin

The change is complete, perfection, as intended.  Always this has been the god's hope for them, but only if their creations so choose. Choice is what has led them into this cataclysmic world, but still they stand by their decisions. Though Safrin can speak for them all—even Caido—when she whispers we are proud to have you, Amalia.

Vi appears bright in her mind, the looming and impressive figure that he is. His smile is dazzling, his love overwhelming, his power complete. His laughter is like the rumble of a mountain range, and in the euphoria of the transformation, he takes a flower from his beard and hands it to the black-eyed girl. A token to remember this momentous occasion by.

When Amalia closes her eyes, Safrin will be gone, but Amalia will never be alone.

Not now, not ever.

She is attuned.

She is one of them for always and always are they with her.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
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#23
A M A L I A


The darkness lasts only a second before it is punctuated by light, vibrant as sunlight, soft as starlight, warm as firelight, cool as the moon. And in the light, a face she does not recognize but immediately knows, for who could it be but him, Vi, the lost god of life to whom the girl has so ardently prayed, day and night for twenty one years? The happiness that pierces her is perfect and pure: in his smile she can see the world, in his laughter she hears her grandmother's joy. The god reaches out and the girl does too, her hands extending toward him in an action that is almost compulsory, yearning and longing to be close. "Vi," she whispers into the light.

And then, the light is gone.

The temple is empty, the sun long set. Moments ago bathed in starlight, the beautiful hall appears nearly mundane in the flickering glow of lanterns. But Amalia does not feel alone, for she isn't alone, not anymore, not in the same way. Something has changed in her, something fundamental and deep and beautiful and terrifying and pure. Awash with wonder, Amalia falls onto her knees, blinking and finding there are tears upon her face. She laughs then, a hearty sound, deep and musical as pealing bells, laughs and cries and feels and believes.

"Thank you, Safrin," the girl murmurs, a radiant smile slicing her face. Then she stands and gathers her thing, leaving the familiar temple a new young woman. She is one of them. She is loved. She is attuned.





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