i sat with my anger long enough she told me her real name was grief
Stubborn as she is, Amalia is learning better than to protest every time she disagrees with someone on their roles in this war, instead biting down against her thoughts. The book and the history are more interesting regardless, a welcome distraction from the intricate sea of emotions that still threatens to press down her bulwarks and flood like tide waters into her mind. She nods at Finn's request, reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "I... sure. Of course."
There's a couple of chairs tucked away nearby; Amalia tilts her chin towards them questioningly before going to sit in one. The chair is large and plush, and her bare feet tuck up beneath her legs as she sits; the entire effect is to make her appear somewhat dwarfed by the upholstery. It's offset by the way she leans forward, keen eyes glancing from Finn to the surrounding books and back. "Um. Where do you want to start?" the not-Shield wonders, a curious tilt to her head.
There's a couple of chairs tucked away nearby; Amalia tilts her chin towards them questioningly before going to sit in one. The chair is large and plush, and her bare feet tuck up beneath her legs as she sits; the entire effect is to make her appear somewhat dwarfed by the upholstery. It's offset by the way she leans forward, keen eyes glancing from Finn to the surrounding books and back. "Um. Where do you want to start?" the not-Shield wonders, a curious tilt to her head.
Amalia
