[SE] from me to you

Ronin is lost. He doesn't spend much time in the Tower, and he has never seen where Amalia is actually staying, and so on his adventure to find where she lives to deliver a package wrapped in brown paper, he has found himself inadvertently at Judgement's Needle. And he has no idea what it is, only that the huge, glittering spire reminds him of its obsidian sister. It isn't the spire that he's stopped to watch, however. It's the man kneeling before it. The Star knows that Stormbreak has an underbelly, but this is his first time seeing the consequences of being caught breaking those rules. There are guards flanking the man as he stares rigidly ahead at his own reflection in the spire. Before Ronin can change his mind about sticking around to watch, however, the lashes begin. Cracking through the air, muffled by the freshly fallen snow, he can't help but flinch as the whip licks at the exposed skin of the man's back. And they keep going, and going, until he counts over a dozen. Until the man has passed out. "Ugh." He can't help himself, itching at the stubble on his chin and moving as if to hurry away, wanting to lose himself elsewhere if he can help it. RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving

Amalia

the archangel

"It's barbaric."

Amalia has showered after her training earlier that day, and now she approaches Ronin with a sickened expression on her face, her long hair tied back in a damp plait. She'd heard the Dark Star was in the Tower and gone in search of her friend, eager to invite him over to her apartment, to fill the small space with more echoes of home. She'd been directed here, to the place where he'd last been seen - and oh does she regret it as she stops beside the soldier, angled face pale and dark eyes bright.

It's cold out, but Amalia barely feels it through the nausea and rage that war within her as she watches the man fall. She's made it in time for the last of the lashes, but even so she sees enough; "What did he do?" she asks of Ronin, eyes never leaving the fallen form. "Are they going to at least heal him? They can't just leave him like that, can they?"

she's just like the weather
can't hold her together

Ronin has to startle back to avoid bumping into Amalia, and he glances over his shoulder at the fallen man and the guards hauling him off the platform once the lashes are finished. "I don't know. And I don't think they are intending to heal him Amalia," he says, his jaw set as he curls an arm around her shoulders as he attempts to guide her away. Both he and the Archangel are as outspoken as they come, but Amalia still has the bark to go with her bite. Him not so much, these days. "I was trying to find my way to your place," he explains, his voice still hushed, as if they might be overheard by the guards and the onlookers. "I must have gotten turned around. Sorry you had to come out here - I didn't even realise this place existed. Are you alright?" RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving

Amalia

the archangel

It's only Ronin's hand on her shoulder that keeps her from pushing forward - for now. Amalia's dark eyes are bright with righteous anger as she continues to glare at the upsetting tableaux, long red thorns growing in her hair like the halo of an avenging angel. Harsh as life in the Grounds had been, it never looked like this.

Ronin may have lost his bite, but Amalia doesn't know it. She makes no effort to dim her voice, standing resolute even as he tries to lead her away. "I'd heard of it, but I never thought... What crime could deserve this punishment?" She takes a step forward, towards where the guards are now re-sealing the man in his cell- and now people are looking at the pair of demigods, their attention drawn from one spectacle over to another. The expression when she turns to Ronin is righteous and furious, her jaw stubbornly set. "We have to do something, Ronin."

she's just like the weather
can't hold her together

Ronin has to inch himself away a bit so as not to be pricked by the thorns in her hair, and even then, Amalia is already twisting herself as if to approach the guardsmen. The Star has to unloop his arm from around her shoulders, catching her by the elbow as if to stop her from going any further. They are already drawing attention, already risking rocking the boat. And normally Ronin would be right there with her, but he can't put himself in danger right now. He's promised Remi. "I don't know, Ama," he whispers, for only her to hear. "And I agree. But I can't do anything right now. I - Safrin has--" Ronin lets out a breath through clenched teeth, shaking his head. "I can't fight right now. One wrong punch and it could be lights out for me." It sounds terrible, given that Ronin has lived that life for longer than he's lived this one. But he made a promise. He can't go back on it. RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving

Amalia

the archangel

She feels like an animal restrained by a lead, knowing she's strong enough to break away but staying put by virtue of her respect for Ronin and the hand that squeezes her elbow. "We have to do something," she whispers back fiercely, not understanding, confused and upset. With gritted teeth she watches the man slump within his cell, watches the uncaring guards turn away--

--and watches a sweet-smelling breeze waft through the iron bars, gently soothing the bleeding wounds. Not enough to be noticed, she hopes, but enough to keep the man alive.

"Okay. Let's go." Turning sharply on her heel the Archangel storms away, her unhappiness visible in the horns that curl out from her forehead, the way fire glitters among the thorns within her locks. Only when she's confident they're out of hearing does Amalia spin back, staring at Ronin through livid eyes. "What did you mean, one punch could take you out? You're- we're- we have to stand up against things like this. It's, it's horrible."

she's just like the weather
can't hold her together

Ronin doesn't need to be Attuned to know that he's upset Amalia, and he has to carefully look away from the cell lest he abandon his own safety and try to reason with the guards. Gritting his teeth, he follows after her and rakes a hand through his dark hair, only to skitter to a halt when she rounds on him. She's angry and she has every right to be, but Ronin can't do anything about it. He can't, and it is horrible, but this is how it is. "I defied Safrin and she took everything from me," he blurts, his hands held up as if Amalia might take it out on him now. "The light, the stars, the projection, it's gone. It's gone until she decides it's back," he tells her, a helpless laugh lacing through his words, like he's reminding himself of that sorry fact. He also realises, in that moment, that he's still holding the wrapped parcel for her. "And I got you a present." RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving

Amalia

the archangel

If she could glow like Ronin she might now be a beacon of sorts, vibrant in the rush of fury at his perceived betrayal, at what they've witness, at the unjust and seedy underbelly that hides beneath a false veneer of moral superiority and righteousness. If she could glow she would be electrifying, but she doesn't glow.

And for some reason, neither does he.

Her arms are crossed upon her chest when she rounds on him, but they drop as his explanation comes tumbling into the air. "She what?" is all Amalia can think to say, anger easily shifting to bemused indignation, her glare shifting into a blank, blinking stare. "She- you- you defied her?" Her hands come up, as though to keep him from dropping any other world-shattering bombs. Mechanically she takes the parcel from Ronin, far too focused on what he's told her to comprehend that it's a gift. "And she- she- but Safrin adores you. And we're supposed to be at war! Can she do that?"

she's just like the weather
can't hold her together

"She..." Ronin winces and rolls his eyes at himself, as if it's embarrassing just to admit to it. "She wanted me to take that passion petal again. For her. With her," he explains, and whilst he can't know what her full intentions were, given that the last time anything like this happened, Seren had happened, Ronin's reluctance becomes clear. "So I told her no, and so she took all of my abilities away." He lowers his hands, exhaling a long, deep breath, letting that sit in the air between them. To hear that Safrin adores him, though, he shrugs his shoulders and raises his eyebrows at Amalia, as if to ask does she? It doesn't seem like that right now. Either way, he hopes it explains his behaviour back at the Needle. "I promised Remi I would be safe," he explains further. "So while I agree with you - and I do, Ama - I can't go barging in there like I want to. Do you want to go back to yours? We can talk more." RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving

Amalia

the archangel

The passion petal.

Passion.

Amalia doesn't say anything, though she thinks many, many thoughts. Her first instinct is to wonder why he wouldn't simply acquiesce - after all, she knows well that extramarital sex is not an issue for her friends. But then her dark eyes widen as she remembers the Seren of it all. Had Safrin wanted...?

She doesn't know, and couldn't say. All she knows is that Safrin had wanted something, and Ronin had said no. And now her friend is powerless, punished by the goddess to whom he owes his very life.

She shakes her head and looks away, biting on her lip as her arms tighten around the package she holds. The Needle and its suffering still gleam cruelly at the edge of her vision, tempting her to go back and try to tear the whole thing down. But this is Ronin- she can't deny him, not when he's dropped something this shattering on her. "Yeah. Let's... yeah. Okay." Mechanically Amalia turns around, her feet tracing the path back towards the Tower and her quarters while her mind roams somewhere else. "So then... what are you going to do?"

she's just like the weather
can't hold her together

Amalia doesn't need to say anything - her silence says it all, really, and Ronin can only offer a sad smile as if to agree with whatever conclusions she's drawing. It's a mess, and confusing as hell, and it's a lesson that Ronin hopes he will only need to learn once. "Thank you," he says, following after her as they meander through the Tower like a pair of ghosts, making little noise on soft feet and, for Ronin at least, doing his best not to catch anyone's eye. What will he do, though? He does at least have an answer to that, the Star offering a lopsided smile that Ama may or may not see. "What else? I bruised the ego of a goddess. I need to make up for that, and so I'll be spending the next... however long... singing Safrin's praises and making her the most recognisable deity in Stormbreak." RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving

Amalia

the archangel

Amalia has become deeply skilled at passing unnoticed, a talent picked up in her youth and one she regularly employs living in the Tower. She leads Ronin through the labyrinthine hallways without garnering as much as a hello, a relief with so much on her mind.

The grin on Ronin's face isn't seen so much as heard, The not-Shield familiar enough with the Star to be able to match his tone to his expressions. Her own grimace is more uncertain, the humor in this situation eluding Amalia entirely. "How long will that take?" she wonders, turning on the corner to the hall that leads to her rooms. "I'll do all I can to help, buy with LongNight coming... It may not be enough."

she's just like the weather
can't hold her together

It's a relief for both of them - Ronin would much rather just hold a conversation with Amalia than make chit-chat with any members of the Order who might be lurking. He's buried his hands in his pockets again, only able to offer a shrug in response to her question, before realising she definitely can't see that. "I'm not sure. As long as Safrin would like it to take," he says. "It could be until tomorrow. It could be in ten years' time." Now that wasn't an encouraging prospect, Ronin accidentally bringing his own mood down and wincing. "I appreciate it," he says of her help. "I'll be laying low during LongNight, at least. I'll do my best not to fall down any stairs." He can't help but smile again at that, nudging her with his elbow and stepping up so they can walk abreast of one another. RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving

Amalia

the archangel

Could be tomorrow. Could be ten years. Amalia may not be able to see Ronin wince, but from behind he'll clearly see the fur that rippled over her exposed neck, and the hand that rubs unhappily against the back of her head. "Gods," she murmurs forcefully, though it is precisely gods who got them into this situation.

Amalia moves aside to make room for Ronin, the long-forgotten package balanced on her hip. His joke about stairs draws a surprised snort from her; "How long ago was that?" she wonders, lips pursed as she tries to remember. Eventually she gives up, shrugging and shaking her head. "What a disaster. Sometimes it felt like everything we did just made things worse." They hadn't saved the Tulmhainar. They hadn't stopped the blight. They hadn't stopped the Voice.

They come to the door to her rooms now, and Amalia shifts, pressing the package between her hip and the wall and digging through her pockets for her key. When eventually she manages it the door swings open to reveal her comfortable little suite: a small sitting room leading to a kitchen, with a bedroom off the back. There's flowers in various stages of life scattered in small vases throughout, and a rack of herbs hangs to dry above the oven. "Sit wherever. I'll make some tea."

she's just like the weather
can't hold her together