Amalia
the archangel
It isn't Amaris. Of course not - that's obvious even before the woman strides closer, her companion settling onto the ground between them, as big a dragon as Amalia has ever seen. Disappointment rises like a tide in her breast and then ebbs out just as quickly, leaving quiet curiosity. "You looked like her, from far away. She's a Dragoon."
The wings at her back shift and fold, and she wastes no time in heeding the dragon's call for affection, her fingers reaching out to trace over scales and find just the right place to scratch. It helps that she can sense the emotions and thoughts of the companion through the Attuned bond, her own silent greeting warm and effusive despite her quiet demeanor.
Looking back up at the tall woman, Amalia tilts her head. "I asked them not to," she answers easily, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. Her almond eyes trace over the woman, to her companion, and back. "I thought they only attacked Abandoned, anyway."
The wings at her back shift and fold, and she wastes no time in heeding the dragon's call for affection, her fingers reaching out to trace over scales and find just the right place to scratch. It helps that she can sense the emotions and thoughts of the companion through the Attuned bond, her own silent greeting warm and effusive despite her quiet demeanor.
Looking back up at the tall woman, Amalia tilts her head. "I asked them not to," she answers easily, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. Her almond eyes trace over the woman, to her companion, and back. "I thought they only attacked Abandoned, anyway."
become more committed to your dreams
than you are to your comfort zone
than you are to your comfort zone
