Amalia
the archangel
It is a long, long time since Amalia let loose.
And even now she doesn't - Mort, but she may wall have forgotten how. As the bonfires flicker across the sand like a series of beacons on and on to nowhere and the people around them sing and dance and mull their way through dark debauchery, Amalia weaves and steps between them, dark eyes wide beneath her hood. Oh, the weather isn't right for cloaks, and already the girl feels hot, but the secrecy is important. She doesn't need any spies getting to Sunjata (little does she know). And this it Torchline, after all - she's far from the shadiest character out.
There's another reason for the anonymity, too. Amalia has never spent a LongNight not in constant fear, and even now as she waits for the task they will take this evening the woman feels strangely buoyant, elated by the faces and figures around her, their voices raised in laughter and song. So distracted is Amalia, in fact, that she thoroughly missed the person behind her- that is, until she's backed directly into him with an exhaled wooph.
She spins around with shocking speed, peering out apologetically from beneath the forest-green hood. "Oh, I'm- sorry. I'm sorry. Are... are you alright?"
And even now she doesn't - Mort, but she may wall have forgotten how. As the bonfires flicker across the sand like a series of beacons on and on to nowhere and the people around them sing and dance and mull their way through dark debauchery, Amalia weaves and steps between them, dark eyes wide beneath her hood. Oh, the weather isn't right for cloaks, and already the girl feels hot, but the secrecy is important. She doesn't need any spies getting to Sunjata (little does she know). And this it Torchline, after all - she's far from the shadiest character out.
There's another reason for the anonymity, too. Amalia has never spent a LongNight not in constant fear, and even now as she waits for the task they will take this evening the woman feels strangely buoyant, elated by the faces and figures around her, their voices raised in laughter and song. So distracted is Amalia, in fact, that she thoroughly missed the person behind her- that is, until she's backed directly into him with an exhaled wooph.
She spins around with shocking speed, peering out apologetically from beneath the forest-green hood. "Oh, I'm- sorry. I'm sorry. Are... are you alright?"
you are slowly growing
but you are still growing
and that is enough
