Just a stirring in my soul

Amalia A simple smile can change a day An understanding look can say I know exactly how you feel If Amalia notes the way Remi's hands curl around the girl, she does not mention it. Perhaps there is a part of her which understands, instinctively, that he is wounded, the same as she. Besides, there is a child to focus on, a thing of life and innocence and love, a shield against the darkness which plagues her. Plagues them all, who live in this place. Raising her fingers in front of the child's face, she wiggles them playfully before those starlit eyes. "Aoife," the young woman repeats quietly, her alto voice accentuating the first syllable, lilting and laughing in a sing-song caress. "A sweet name for a sweet girl, hmm?" Lifting her eyes from the infant at last, she peers at Remi through honey-colored lashes. "How old is she?" She wonders if the infant is ready for solids. There is a recipe her grandmother used to use... The man who stands there is not her friend. With the rising tension between Outlander and Natural, some might call them adversaries, bastions of the communities which seem so eager to divide. She does not know where he stands on the Spire, if he thinks the barrier ought to fall, if he is Ascended or Abandoned or anything else. She does not know his story, his pain, the scars which litter his body and soul. But she knows that he is hurting, because they all are, these days. And she knows that he has a life to care for, a life born in the barrier, which makes it all of theirs.