Amalia
only lonely hid the morning from the stars
✩
They all react differently, and Amalia's eyes flutter briefly as she looks between the three, something half embarrassed and half intrigued emblazoned on her face. A half-smile for Deimos, a nod for Rexanna - has the woman lost her accent already? - and a somewhat shadowed look for Maea, questioning, uncertain, as though looking for invitation to intrude. They have not spent much time together, not since Amalia's grandmother's death- and even then it had been her mother who cared for and taught the older Valair, while the young waif clung to her grandmother's shadow.
But the question feels like an invitation, and Amalia draws nearer despite her anxiety. Her brow furrowing slightly in thought, she moves to stand among them, chewing delicately on her lip. "The Old Gods, Vi and Mort and Rae, built it almost three hundred years ago. After the Voice began to create Ascendeds, and threaten the balance of the world." She thinks of the vehemence with which Safrin spoke, her disdain for the inorganic palpable in her cosmic gaze. "Our lives were spared because of Mort's love."
Amalia looks again at Maea as her question is answered, glancing over the rags again before meeting pale eyes, her own black gaze bright. "That is wonderful, Maea," Amalia breathes earnestly, her face breaking into a reverent smile. She thinks of her own encounter with Ludo in the Shrine, and with Safrin before. "The books we found in Safrin's library are all here, and the map of what's outside, if you want to read them. Or-" and here she stumbles, suddenly self-conscious, realizing too late her mistake. With a fleeting glance at Maea she clears her throat, eyes again on the tea and snacks, right hand pulling absently at her left sleeve.
"I will be reading them further, and Jigano too, probably, and the other Loreseekers. Maybe we can take turns reading them aloud? To save time."
But the question feels like an invitation, and Amalia draws nearer despite her anxiety. Her brow furrowing slightly in thought, she moves to stand among them, chewing delicately on her lip. "The Old Gods, Vi and Mort and Rae, built it almost three hundred years ago. After the Voice began to create Ascendeds, and threaten the balance of the world." She thinks of the vehemence with which Safrin spoke, her disdain for the inorganic palpable in her cosmic gaze. "Our lives were spared because of Mort's love."
Amalia looks again at Maea as her question is answered, glancing over the rags again before meeting pale eyes, her own black gaze bright. "That is wonderful, Maea," Amalia breathes earnestly, her face breaking into a reverent smile. She thinks of her own encounter with Ludo in the Shrine, and with Safrin before. "The books we found in Safrin's library are all here, and the map of what's outside, if you want to read them. Or-" and here she stumbles, suddenly self-conscious, realizing too late her mistake. With a fleeting glance at Maea she clears her throat, eyes again on the tea and snacks, right hand pulling absently at her left sleeve.
"I will be reading them further, and Jigano too, probably, and the other Loreseekers. Maybe we can take turns reading them aloud? To save time."
