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."
--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
can't hold her together
