Amalia
'Cause she's just like the weather
Can't hold her together
Born from dark water
Daughter of the r a i n and s n o w
There are always strangers in the Nest, and despite her attempts to meet more Dragoons, there are still many she doesn't know. So though she feels a stirring of recognition as her eyes sweep over the raven-haired youth, she doesn't recognize her- not enough to put a name to the itching in the back of her mind.Can't hold her together
Born from dark water
Daughter of the r a i n and s n o w
The last time she saw Seren she'd been a child, after all.
Amalia's hair is tightly braided and pinned against her hair. The halo is scarcely visible beneath the bright spring sun; she bears no animalistic features, nor sword or shield today. Once more she glances at the stranger, that itch of recognition still nagging against her thoughts; then she shrugs, shaking it off, and begins her graceful, practiced warm-up.
Stretching first, the poses held, her dancer's body flexible as it is strong. She moves steadily and easily, breathing through it as muscles grown and loosen and warm. And after that's done Amalia goes to grab a jump rope from the shelves of gear, dark eyes flickering once more to the youth.
