Amalia
the archangel
It's a good thing for Amalia she has a three-knock pattern woven into her bones, because otherwise she would have quite embarrassed herself tapping Cian on the chest. Instead she is able to retract her hand from where she reached for the handle, taking a step back from the Eye as he makes to leave his office. "Hi," comes the somewhat flustered reply, nearly as surprised by his almost-friendly demeanor as she is by his appearance. She falters as he strides purposefully by, unsure if she's being dismissed until she's asked to accompany. And then she blinks and rallies, biting the inside of her cheek and falling into step beside Cian.
"Thank you." Much less insecure than the last few times she encountered Cian, Amalia's voice has the soft ring of confidence and purpose beneath the requisite anxious warble. "I won't take too much of your time. I wanted... well, first I wanted to apologize, I guess. I know my attitude hasn't always matched what's expected of me, by the Order and by the Gods." She's looking ahead, her jaw set stubbornly against the scrutiny or judgment she expects. "I was naïve, in the way I viewed the Ascended. I know better now."
"Thank you." Much less insecure than the last few times she encountered Cian, Amalia's voice has the soft ring of confidence and purpose beneath the requisite anxious warble. "I won't take too much of your time. I wanted... well, first I wanted to apologize, I guess. I know my attitude hasn't always matched what's expected of me, by the Order and by the Gods." She's looking ahead, her jaw set stubbornly against the scrutiny or judgment she expects. "I was naïve, in the way I viewed the Ascended. I know better now."
we drink the poison our mind pours for us
and wonder why we feel so sick
and wonder why we feel so sick
