Amalia
"Oh, I know Sera!" Amalia says brightly, warm fondness coloring her voice and her cheeks. It's a warmth that's tempered by the thought of Cian and the Order and her lack of belonging; "No, I don't think... it's for me. At least, not right now." She shrugs, trying to push down the sting of failure and disappointment.
At least she isn't failing at sorting anymore. A small mercy indeed, but one she clings to, completing her task with renewed fervor. Enthusiastic, she turns her attention to the stall in need of repair, years of similar projects for Fiat Lux and other small festivals making the task a familiar one. Amalia chooses her wood with care, cutting and sanding with speed representative of her strength.
At least she isn't failing at sorting anymore. A small mercy indeed, but one she clings to, completing her task with renewed fervor. Enthusiastic, she turns her attention to the stall in need of repair, years of similar projects for Fiat Lux and other small festivals making the task a familiar one. Amalia chooses her wood with care, cutting and sanding with speed representative of her strength.
