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?"
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
can't hold her together
