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 She flushes, again, beneath the compliment, bowing her head gratefully before looking back up at the man and the child. For a moment she watches in easy silence as Remi kisses the girl's head, his soft hum a melancholy thing that speaks to a promise of happier days. Amalia's smile fades away, replaced by quiet empathy, an almost sisterly care. "Would you like to sit?" she asks, gesturing at the small table which rests at the fore of the shop, unused and inviting, old wooden benches worn from use. Her staff leans on the wall beside it, the luxere horn still bound with rope to the long, unrefined stock of wood. She has been meaning to get it put together properly, but... Well. Much has happened since then. Amalia disappears into the back of the shop, and when she returns a few minutes later it is with a sunny smile and a laden tray. Placing the tray upon the table, Amalia removes from it two plates, a knife, a fresh oat loaf, and a collection of preserved fruit. Deftly she begins to slice the bread, her deep voice soft as she works. "My grandmother had a recipe for baby food, if you want it... it was simple, but many of the children in the Hollowed Grounds were raised on it, and we've turned out okay." And she shrugs before leaning down to make a face at Aoife, her eyes crossing and tongue sticking out, lips contorted into a humorous shape. Then quietly as ever she glances up at Remi, and gestures between the three jars of preserves. "Apple, onion, or berry?"