Amalia
the archangel
Had she not been so distracted by her missing keys Amalia might have paused, trying to allow Arailla more space to speak about her assault; alas, this minor inconvenience has pulled her attention away from what matters most.
But with the door open and both women within, Amalia can begin to feel calm. The studio is more study than bedroom, with a kitchen set into one side and a bed flanked by large windows on the other. It's the kitchen the Angel flocks to, featuring for Arialla to sit down at the counter as she sets about putting on a kettle and fetching options for tea.
As she works, she speaks, her brow furrowed in concern and thought. "I hadn't heard of them, either. But there was a spirit- it said that the war would come in eight seasons, and we needed to find the champion's relics before then." Amalia leans against the counter, peering into an empty mug. "Truthfully, I'm more concerned about what will happen if they fall into the hands of the Ascended than anything else. That's why I'm trying to learn everything I can."
But with the door open and both women within, Amalia can begin to feel calm. The studio is more study than bedroom, with a kitchen set into one side and a bed flanked by large windows on the other. It's the kitchen the Angel flocks to, featuring for Arialla to sit down at the counter as she sets about putting on a kettle and fetching options for tea.
As she works, she speaks, her brow furrowed in concern and thought. "I hadn't heard of them, either. But there was a spirit- it said that the war would come in eight seasons, and we needed to find the champion's relics before then." Amalia leans against the counter, peering into an empty mug. "Truthfully, I'm more concerned about what will happen if they fall into the hands of the Ascended than anything else. That's why I'm trying to learn everything I can."
she is calm in the storm
and anxious in the quiet
and anxious in the quiet
