[Seasonal Event] free of the coliseums

amalia i'll light a f i r e in your new shoes He greets her with his customary contemplative regard, and for a moment the girl falters, unsure. The behemoth is impossible to read, a stone tablet written on in a language simple and silent and yet full, she is confident, of interesting things. Does he care about her? Hate her? Does she even cross his mind, except as another blip, another bright star trying to melt the armor of ice in which the beast is sheathed? Amalia waits with baited breath, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watches him watching her, his vibrant eyes inscrutable. At last he speaks, and Amalia releases a breath she did not know she was holding, tension easing from her narrow frame. A small smile pulls at her lips; she wants to grin and does not know why, instead trying to savor this small victory with a dignity she frankly does not have. At least he doesn't hate her - or so it currently seems, and for the lonely girl lack of hatred is nearly as good as a friend. "Not much," she replies. "Maybe two bundles." She doubts that she could carry more - she is strong, to an extent, but the wood is a trial without a sled. Reaching back to grab her bag, Amalia pulls it open, revealing a single speckled loaf. "I only have this," she murmurs shyly, apologetic and anxious and eager at once. "It's oat and honey, with pumpkin seeds." The seeds were savored from their baking adventure, and she had saved them - and this - for him, hopeful to rekindle the memory and to prove to herself that the moment of warmth she had seen in him was more than a random fluke.