[Seasonal Event] free of the coliseums

amalia i'll light a f i r e in your new shoes He does not seem to yield to her good bright good nature, and again she doubts her wisdom in coming here, in seeking him out. Any fleeting moments of friendship feel distant now, improbable and unreachable, falling between her fingers like so much sand. And is it a surprise? No- she built the sandcastles in her mind, after all. When they crumble in the surf, she cannot blame anyone but herself. Inhaling, rallying, the girl smiles, though it lacks the sunshine eagerness of earlier: it is a polite smile, her business face, for isn't that all this is? A transaction. Business. Nothing more. "Thank you, she answers, her voice steady, though the loaf in her hand quivers slightly as she extends it to the man. "I'll return it tomorrow- or you can retrieve it. I'll leave it outside the shop." She begins to turn, to walk away, but a noise stops her in her tracks. Pausing, Amalia tilts her head as though to better catch the sound, her long hair falling across her face. It is beautiful at first, but wrong, discordant, and as it rises in volume so to do her eyes widen, body tensing like a bow. Voices, voices, so many voices, crying a mournful wail, begging, pleading to be helped, to be saved! Amalia raises her hands to her ears, tears springing to her onyx eyes as she closes them and shakes her head, willing it to stop. And it does, just as suddenly as it began. Trembling, Amalia lowers her hands and takes a shuddering breath. Looking at Deimos through bright, wet eyes, she blinks, opens her mouth, and shuts it again. She doesn't need to burden him with her terror, her cries for help. They are not, after all, friends. "Long Night is coming," she says instead. "Make sure you are safe, Deimos."