The Spark Divine
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 35
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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#1
He'd only been gone long enough to take care of some essential hygiene and ask Rexanna to bring some food up to the Infirmary, but when he'd returned it had been to see Remi disappearing into Rory's room with the rear end of... a... horse?

Before Long Night he would have been far more curious about why a horse was inside, but maybe it was an Attuned or...

Or maybe he just couldn't be bothered to care. Though he might have slipped into the room in his foxform, he didn't know what he would do if Remi tried to speak to him telepathically again. As frayed about the edges as his mind had become he didn't trust himself not to lash out, and if Rory didn't want Remi around, well, the hunter was able to speak up for himself, even while he was recovering.

The bard had been avoiding almost everyone else since he'd half-carried Rory into the Temple, except for the hunter, Amalia, and Rexanna. He hadn't ventured down the stairs to the Rathskeller at all yet, feeling a fragile sort of dangerous. Or maybe he was dangerously fragile... guilt could do strange things to a man. This time, at least, no one had died, but he still blamed himself for how close they'd both come. Edy was a primal sort of human, in tune with fire to an almost frightening degree, and still quite young. The madness had taken advantage of her in a way that still made him bristle in a protective sort of protest, but he had no such excuses for himself. What he had thought - what he had done - twisted in his already-fractured soul like a maggot, eating away at him from within in spite of the support from the few friends he had allowed near. Isuma, when she wasn't asleep on Rory, stayed tucked up on his shoulder, subdued and half-hidden beneath the long white mane he'd only loosely tied back.

His slow feet had taken him to the Shrine without him quite realizing where he had gone. The Long Night still raged outside, but the Temple's stone walls were thick. His eyes had adjusted to the dimness, though - or had they become a fox's eyes? He wasn't sure he cared about that, either, though it should have fascinated him to study the limits and capabilities that he seemed to have regained. Not to mention being able to turn into a raven. That was... new. And it had been useful, too, for which he was dimly grateful.

He had another reason to be grateful now, though. He might not have intended to come to the Shrine, but sank to the ground anyways and bowed his head, looking at his empty hands in silence. He had no instrument this time, no gift to offer. He wasn't sure he wanted an answer, for that matter. But it would be churlish to stay silent now that he was here. At last he closed his eyes, his world narrowing to the sound of his breathing and the slow, somber beat of his heart. "Thank you... Ludo..." he murmured, but he got no further before the soft scuff of footsteps caught his ear.

He swallowed down frustration and turned, but the woman standing there had his expression lightening, even if a smile still felt as far away as sunrise. " Amalia ," he murmured, glad to see her up, but blue eyes searched her face hesitantly for signs of anger or approbation. But... no, she had fallen before he'd transformed, hadn't she? She didn't know...

Guilt twisted like a snake in his guts and he winced, rising to his feet with a shadow of his usual grace as he offered her his arm for support in case she was still weak. "I'm... sorry." Gods, the words felt hollow and insufficient. "Would... would you like to pray in private?"
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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#2

a m a l i a

As soon as she is physically able, the girl makes her escape.

She did not ask for this. To be bound to the Temple is to be bound to the chaos within, trapped and confined by the milling bodies, the whispered voices, the gentle ministrations of medics she does not know and does not care to befriend. The infirmary is a hellish place, full of nightmares and memories and the reeking smell of death. It is where her mother lived and died, where she lost the last tenuous piece of family she had, and Amalia loathes it with every fiber of her being.

There are others far more wounded than her, and though it is terrible she is grateful, in a way. They take away attention from the no-longer-dead girl, giving her space to slip away. She needs to escape: she is suffocating, drowning beneath the weight of those cold stone walls and the memories they hold. The bakery is too far away; Antheneum is not secured; and so Amalia makes her way to the last place she remembers feeling secure. Clad in a nightgown she is barefoot, freezing despite the blanket pulled around her narrow shoulders, but in truth she does not mind. She has been cold ever since she woke up. While life may have returned to her, warmth certainly has not.

She approaches the shrines in silence and hesitates, suddenly unsure. Who should she pray to, who should she thank for the curse of continuing to be alive? Vi, for blessing her with a life she squandered? Mort, who disdained of her enough to send her back? It does not matter: neither are here. The Old Ones are not listening. They never have.

These thoughts are wrong- she knows this. She should be grateful, and in a way she is: she is grateful that her companions lived, that Rory is recovering, that Edy and the Attuned escaped relatively unscathed. She is grateful that those in the Temple let them in, despite the danger of opening the doors. She is grateful that they are safe, that her strongest attempts to martyr them all for a pointless cause have not ended in complete disaster.

Because in the end it was a pointless cause. The world did not change. The Spark Bird did not come. Darkness won once more, and Amalia could not save anyone.

She could not even die properly.

A voice cuts into her reverie, and the once-dead girl starts. Dark eyes whip up to stare at the man, wild and uncertain, hard and cold. She had not seen Jigano since Long Night fell, but something in his face strikes a chord within, causes a jolt of bitter guilt to stab into her spine. He offers his arm and she shies away, despite her weakness and the trembling of her limbs. A shiver jolts through her body, and she sways but does not fall. "Yes," she answers blandly, too tired for any sort of grace, too trapped by her conflict to meet his eyes.

Spooky Rags


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#3

It starts slowly, at first. The candles brighten, ever so slightly. Then the rest of the sconces burst into light, setting the shrine aglow with golden warmth. Despite the attention it undoubtedly draws, no monsters dare to approach this particular lamp-lighter. Where the light falls, the shadows fall even darker. Amalia and Jigano may just notice - just - as the darkness chases between their feet, rushing forth to ball together at the foot of the shrine.

There Ludo sits as a young, petite blonde, her porcelain mask pushed up to rest upon her hair and forehead to bare her face. She watched the couple with a quiet, calm expression, then gives a beatific smile directed at Amalia. "Very few ever wish to go with me willingly," Ludo said in the woman's voice. "But I will take you, if that is what you want."

LUDO
Braved the forests, braved the stone
Braved the icy winds and fire
Braved and beat them on my own

Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 35
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,481
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#4
"Amalia..." he said again, eyes searching her face worriedly as she pulled away. Isuma peeked out from behind his hair, golden eyes blinking at the girl with quiet curiosity as she sensed her companion's guilt and pain and worry for the woman. "I..."

But before he could quite sort out what to say, the shrine brightened - and then brightened further as the sconces light all at once. The lorekeeper winced and turned his head away, feeling his eyes shift back to human under the assault, and he reached up to shield the gryphlet on his shoulder as she Reep!ed affronted protest. Her eyes were even more sensitive than his, and she buried her soft face against the side of his neck while she recovered.

He missed the darkness that slid between their feet, but there was no missing the petite god(dess?) before the shrine, looking much as he'd seen her when last he'd prayed. For a moment he hesitated between supporting Amalia and showing the god due respect, but as his friend had rejected his touch, he didn't try to reach for her again - though he stayed close enough to catch her if her wavering should turn to a fall. Isuma peeped inquiringly and peeked out again, balancing carefully on his shoulder as Jigano turned and gave Ludo a grave bow - for what other kind of bow would one give a god of death? - but caught his breath at the offer so gently made.

Looking swiftly to Amalia he made no effort to conceal the shock and pain in his eyes, giving a small shake of his head in negation. "Amalia, what do they mean?"
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#5

a m a l i a

The red antler shifts within her hands; she clings to it, pale-knuckled, her dark eyes hooded as they trace its subtle glow. She does not dare to look at him, cannot bear to see the reproach she is certain to find. There is no amount of disappointment he can feel in her to surmount the shame she feels for herself, and she is tired, so tired, too tired to pretend. She shakes her head as he speaks her name, a wince crossing over her face at the movement. Her head hurts. Her heart hurts. She is tired.

The change in lighting is subtle, at first, subtle enough that in her weary state Amalia does not register as the shadows shift. It is only when the sconces illuminate that the baker raises her head- and, indeed, her entire body, starting and stiffening in sudden alarm, her dark eyes wide and wild with surprise. Fear blooms readily in her chest: she looks to Jigano for some sign of how to proceed, but the man seems preoccupied by a creature in his care.

But understanding comes quickly to the pious child, and she quickly blinks away her fear, replacing it with awe. Clutching tighter at the antler, Amalia squints against the light and falls down to her knees, her head dropping down in automatic reverence as the deity appears. Young, feminine, pretty and mild, the deity is recognizable only by its porcelain mask, and even then, only because she has studied and learned. "Ludo," she murmurs, a frown on her brow. She has ever been an acolyte of Vi, not Mort. Why would this vassal come to her?

Ah, but of course: to take what is owed. Amalia exhales a shuddering breath, shivering once more at the being's quiet speech. If that is what you want- Is it what she wants? Child of daylight, of morning and life, destined to yearn but never to fly? Jigano's voice sounds distant in her ears, muffled and distorted as though by water. How can he possibly understand? How could he know what she has endured, how closely she came to tasting release, only to be returned to her lonely kingdom of failed dreams? She clutches at the antler, as though it might protect her from her own mind. "I nearly led people to their deaths," she says to him, to it, to nobody by herself, "For nothing but my own stupidity." I died. I was dead. For nothing.

Black eyes raise to meet the god's, the smile met with confusion, pain. She is so tired, so cold. "Why am I alive?"

Spooky Rags


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#6

Ludo inclined her head to Jigano in response to his bow, though her gaze lingered more on Amalia - of course on Amalia. She watched as the young woman fell to her knees, a smile still playing upon her lips. "To welcome Vi is to welcome Mort, in his eventuality. You must know that, sweetling," Ludo answered her thoughts, tilting her head down at the mortal before the shrine. "I come to you because you call to me, in your heart if not in your mind." Rising to her feet, Ludo stepped down from the shrine to stand among Jigano and Amalia.

"You are alive because you made a choice. The people you led all made choices, and none of them led to me. Not until now, of course." She shrugged, glancing between them. "So I say again - I will take you, if that is what you want. To see them again, to be without pain."

LUDO
Braved the forests, braved the stone
Braved the icy winds and fire
Braved and beat them on my own

Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 35
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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#7
Amalia's piety was humbling, even as her painful flinch away from him was wounding, but she was his friend and guildmate and he would not abandon her so easily without at least knowing the reason why. Nor would he leave her to face the dreameater, the god of death, alone. Ludo's nod was, perhaps, all the acknowledgement he would receive during this visitation, but even if the god did not seem to mind the tall bard's advantage in height he had no desire to loom over his friend.

He settled to his knees at Amalia's side, watching in concern as she clutched the antler like a talisman. Considering what had happened out in the starless night, it was, but her words had him shaking his head in sharp negation. "Ama--" He began, but cut her name short as Ludo answered her, and he nearly bit his tongue in his hurry to avoid interrupting the god. He was glad he had - almost surprisingly so - when Ludo spoke with a simple eloquence, saying all the bard might have but with far more authority. Jigano ducked his head, exhaling softly in relief, at least until the offer to take the gentle baker came again.

"Amalia," he pleaded, tightening his fingers into fists in his lap to stop himself from reaching out to her, afraid she would only flinch away again. "Please. I know it's selfish but I don't want you to go yet. I don't want to lose any more friends." He hesitated, slanting a glance to the waiting god, but it was Isuma who distracted him from saying anything foolish by hopping down to his lap and then over to Amalia, little snow leopard tail twitching as the pale furred-and-feathered gryphlet put her foreclaws gently on the woman's leg and leaned up to get a better look at her expression, Reep?ing softly in concern as she investigated this human her bonded was tying himself in internal knots over.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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#8

a m a l i a

Amalia bows her head again, in quiet recognition of the being's words. To welcome Vi is to welcome Mort- it is true, she thinks as she stares at the antler. Her grandmother often said that to serve Vi in life is to be worthy of Mort in death; that the two, more than any others, were inexorably intertwined. But to a girl young and full of life, Mort has always felt like a distant thing, a song on a breeze which sometimes howled around her home but never rang in Amalia's heart.

Until now.

She has heard it, felt it, the alluring, chilling tune of death, the voice of Mort within her ears. She has heard her loved ones, her lost ones, and tasted the promise of release. Amalia yearns for that salvation, to be freed from the confines of her own tumultuous mind, the anxiety and guilt which plagues her thoughts. Even the deity's gentle attempts to absolve her of sins feels hollow; yes, they made a choice, but it was at her prompting, due to her desire to aspire, to serve. The relief she feels at the reassurance that none have died is palpable, but she has seen Rory's burns, Edrei's frantic gaze. They are alive, but they all wear scars. "What was the point of it?" she muses aloud, black eyes scanning the young figure as though an answer may appear upon its face. "I want to serve you, all of you- but maybe I don't know how."

Ludo's offer is a beautiful one, a brilliant bridge to salvation, and oh, Amalia wants to take it. To see them again! To be without pain! It is an itch beneath her skin, a hunger in her gut. She stares at the goddess and aches, yearns. Jigano's voice is a distant thread, tugging at her mind. It is not enough, his pleading, though her heart twinges at the mention of friend. No, it is Isuma's soft interest the grabs the girl, saves her from falling prey to her own fear. The gentle touch of tiny paws, the inquisitive sound of an innocent thing: it pulls her away from her own misery; she blinks, suddenly aware of the others in the room.

Looking down at the gryphon in her lap, Amalia's heart breaks.

"I do want to go with you," the girl confesses, her voice heavy with yearning, desire. "I want to see them. I want to be free. But..." she pauses, inhaling and exhaling a shuddering breath. One hand releases from the glowing antler to entwine in the fur between the child's wings. She turns her gaze back to the goddess.

"I don't think I have earned it, yet. I want to be better, before I meet them again. I want to have served Vi, to have made the most of the life he gave me. I want to make Mort proud to have me." She thinks of Safrin, the graceful goddess who promised her she was good. Amalia may not believe it, or agree, but she knows she has to at least try to live up to the love and acceptance of her gods, as much as it may hurt.

Turning her dark eyes back to Ludo, Amalia asks the only question which sits constant on her tongue. "How do I make myself worthy, Ludo? How do I atone for my mistakes?"

Spooky Rags


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#9

Ludo watched the exchange between them in silence, patient as the night that drew out around them. Or at least, she was patient, until the little gryphlet interrupted the proceedings. She made a small sound in the back of her throat that wanted to be a squee, dropping down to kneel with them, expectant that the half-kittycat, half-whatever would come for fuss.

"The point of it?" she said softly. "I was told, once, that near-death serves as a reminder. To appreciate what one has, and to make one's days count." But she felt as though there was no need for this, not for Amalia. This was a woman of the old world, when their stories had still been legend and they had walked among the mortals with purpose. Amalia did not need to be told that she needed to make herself worthy for death - she already knew it.

And so she ducked her head in acknowledgement at Amalia's refusal, only to look up once more at her question. Between the two of them... for it would take two, given their talents...

"Souls get lost, during LongNight," Ludo said softly. "Not just during LongNight, but it is more common at this time. Whilst I can round them up myself, I believe you would find peace in the task. You too, dreamless one."

LUDO
Braved the forests, braved the stone
Braved the icy winds and fire
Braved and beat them on my own

Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 35
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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#10
Jigano was so busy watching his friend that he almost missed Ludo's sudden... childlike... delight? as it focused on Isuma, who was, in turn, focused on Amalia. Again, Ludo answered her questions with a deftness the bard could only admire, but it was the little gryphon kit who seemed to call the young woman back to the world she had been so close to abandoning.

Ludo was right about the little one enjoying being fussed, but Amalia had her attention first, and Isuma took the gentle touch as an invitation to crawl into the young woman's lap. She explored while they spoke and rubbed her beak curiously against the antler she still held. Jigano looked from god to girl to gryphlet in bemusement, but some of the tension left him with a soft sigh of relief as Amalia turned away from the path of final sacrifice.

"She will probably chase a... ah. A piece of cloth, if you dangle it for her," he suggested softly to the kneeling god, uncertain whether he should fear for Isuma's safety or not with an icon of death about. But... Ludo had traded fairly with him before, as he had done just now with Amalia. Surely there had been enough deaths already on this longest of nights? And Amalia trusted them...

The unexpected task offered to him had Jigano blinking in surprise, looking to Ludo fully. He didn't answer immediately, turning the new information over in a brain that still felt sluggish from the fear and guilt of what had been done at the perch. But...

He was an Oracle, even though his powers had been taken from him, it did not change that it was part of the shape of his soul. Divinely touched... and given divine responsibilities to go with the powers the gods of his world had granted him. Abyssally cursed as well... but with luck he could avoid that, here. Looking back to Amalia, he dipped his head in agreement before turning back to Ludo. "I have served as psychopomp before, on my world," he said quietly. Ushering the souls of lingering ghosts to their next worlds, through grace or force, depending on their own inclination to violence. "It would be my honor to do so again. No one should be left to wander lost in this darkness if we can help them. How do we find them? And how do we bring them back to you?"

Isuma chose that moment to hop from Amalia's lap and scamper towards the blond goddess, cautiously curious at the new person who stirred such conflicting feelings in her bonded, but sensing no threat from her. The gryphon slowed as she approached, Reep?ing shyly as she fluffed her downy wings and tilted her head to look up at Ludo with the fearlessness of the very young.

Or the very feline.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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#11

a m a l i a

It is not without some bemusement that Amalia regards the enraptured god, surprised from her stupor by the being's sudden delight. It startles the ghost of a smile onto her lips, the first such shape to grace her face since she woke from the sleep of the nearly-dead. The small gryphon's easy charm, its purr and pleasure at being touched... it reminds the girl of why she values life, the things that make Vi paramount in her thoughts. Still absorbed in the kitten on her lap, the girl nods in time to Ludo's words, bittersweet understanding written on her face.

She has been given a second chance at life. She needs to make it count.

Ludo's request is an unexpected one, but it is the thing the girl needs. Knowledge, faith, a task to do- it emboldens her, and for a moment she feels the slightest flicker of familiar fire within her belly, an eager thirst for purpose. To help lost souls, to guide them home: the not-dead girl bows her head, gratitude blooming in her breast. It is not redemption for her sins, but for the first time she sees a path forward unfold, a way to atone the things she has done, the mistakes she has made, the person she has become.

Jigano accepts before she can, but the willingness was in her heart before the request was made. "What will happen to them?" she asks, remembering Safrin's words: The Old Ones are without. "Where will they go, when they are found?" Are they freed from the bubble by death? It is not a refusal, simply the inquisitive nature of the girl rousing from its sleep. To welcome Vi is to welcome Mort- and the girl believes it, holds it in her soul. She still loves life, but she has seen death. And there is enough piety in her heart for both.

Spooky Rags


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#12

They were quickly proving that an entire conversation - indeed, an entire transaction could be carried out while Ludo's attention was on Isuma. She positively beamed as the little gryphlet hopped up towards her, reaching out to stroke at the downy feathers and the furry tail.

"They will stay with me, as have all the souls before them here. Until such a time when I can lead them to their rest," she murmured to Amalia. "They feel no pain in my keeping, and they do not wander and mourn their lives this way. It is kindest."

Considering the deity's propensity for pettiness and trickery, it may have seemed odd for Ludo to speak as such. But such was the fickle nature of the gods. Finally, she raised her eyes from the gryplet to Jigano, smiling to him. "You will sing to them, to draw them to you," she said - and as if it had always been there, a melody would spring into the bard's mind - beautiful and haunting in equal measure.

"And you shall guide them." Now Ludo gazed to Amalia. "I once gifted a particular lantern to your friend. The one with the horses. Have him surrender it to you, and step into the woodlands on the night of a new moon. With your lure, of course." She nodded to Jigano.

LUDO
Braved the forests, braved the stone
Braved the icy winds and fire
Braved and beat them on my own

Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 35
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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#13
Isuma had yet to turn down attention, and today was not going to be the first time it happened. She squeaked happily and then purred at the gentle pets the goddess gave her, oblivious to the Power that knelt beside her, rubbing against the god's knee in all her fluffy, downy softness. Jigano remained utterly bemused by both of their behaviors, but he let himself relax incrementally as no bad consequence came of the interaction.

He did glance to Amalia, eyes widening at her question and then nodding respect and approval at his fellow Loreseeker's search for more information. There was light in her eyes again, her shoulders looking firmer as she shed some of her burdens and took on Ludo's request with a glad heart. The god's response was reassuring as well, if less so. It was sobering indeed to think that none of the souls in the barrier could move on. His thoughts began to move faster, sparked and ignited by his friend and their divine companion alike as he added this information to what he had learned from 108 in the starlit snow that night.

Before he could get too lost in thought the deity gave him a task he was well suited for, and Jigano gave a graceful bow from his kneeling position, accepting the task - and then jerking upright, eyes wide, as the melody whispered sweetly to mind. The look he gave the not-girl was one of wary respect then, but he did not pull away. What point, when he had freely given the god his dreams? No, this was a gift, not malice or mischief, and it would be good to feel power in his voice again, for however limited a time and task. "Yes," he agreed. "I will do that for them. And for you." And for Amalia, as well, so that he could continue to see the vivacious light of purpose in his friend and guildmate's eyes.

"You gave Rory a lantern?" he asked, surprised - and then not. Not really, though he tilted his head at the little goddess thoughtfully as Isuma rolled onto her back, wings wriggling beneath her as she batted up at porcelain fingers in playful fascination. The hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips, not quite cracking through the trauma of the recent night, but promising an eventual dawn. "It would seem I chose wisely, that night, Dreameater," he murmured, dipping his head in acknoweldgment.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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#14

a m a l i a

Until such a time as I can lead them to their rest. The shiver that runs down Amalia's spine is due to something other than cold; for a moment she feels that same spark of hunger, that same frantic yearning brought on by Safrin's vision of the world without. The promise of something, somewhere else, outside their cage and just past their reach...

Ah, but Safrin said the New Gods must not be allowed to leave, and so Amalia strives to content herself with the world she knows, the sphere in which she lives.

She nods, again, as Ludo speaks, trying to quell that momentary fire. Dark eyes turn to Jigano then, watching in quiet awe as he accepts the gift of song. Another ghostly smile that does not quite meet her eyes, but it comes closer, her wan face enlivened somewhat by this sense of purpose. She wonders if her family lingers among these lost souls, and her heart quickens at the thought, for while she hopes they have found peace, a selfish part of her prays that she will see them again.

Ludo turns back to her then, and Amalia listens intently to the being. A lantern from Rory? Something tickles her mind, a memory of the Festival and Ludo's appearance there. She nods, accepting the instructions in silence, her hands slipping back around the antler as old wounds bubble anew in her chest. She is loathe to ask anything more of the man who she nearly led to his death, to take from him a gift which is given, even if it is the giver asking for it back. At least she has not been asked to drag Rory into more danger, though a sidelong glance at Jigano fills her with some fresh dread. "Will anyone be hurt?" she questions softly, looking at the goddess with beseeching eyes. She will not say no, does not care of the risk to herself, but to bring another to danger again-

Cold exhaustion is creeping back into her bones, heightened by her burst of interested energy, tempered by her underlying guilt and fear. She is tired of failure, tired of terror, tired of her insecurities, tired and not yet fully recovered from her foray into death.



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