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."
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
can't hold her together
