such small hands

Rory cries, and the girl holds him as he once did for her, though her eyes remain on the dark spire. In that moment it is an evil thing, hateful in her eyes. It is the secrets locked within which have brought them here: it corrupts people, infects them with darkness, just as the New Gods once sought to corrupt the world. This conflict is a blight upon their imperfect home, and Amalia wishes they could just return, rewind the clock and reset the world to the point it was at before. Except then she wouldn't have them. When Rory finally shifts in her arms, she prepares to draw away. His pushing closer is unexpected; the girl freezes before relaxing once more, her slender fingers resuming their tracings on his back as the man's blonde head leans against her neck. Silently she listens to his tale, though her face and body betray the emotions each words incites in her. Roana's stubbornness a scowl, and when he speaks of Ronin's death she nods her head empathetically. She, too, had hoped to prevent more death, both for ones within and the ones without. Fighting the demon had caused more tragedy, and though yes, they had won, was it truly worth the cost they had paid? The cost that had yet to come? Ah, but it is the retelling of Edy's proclamation that pierces the girl, awakens something feral within her breast. A low growl escapes Amalia's lips and she pulls away far enough to look down at the man. "She will not," the leopard replies with conviction, fury turning her deep voice black. It does not matter in that moment that Edrei is a soldier and she a baker; it does not even matter that they were once social, that they may have been friends, that Edy saved her life after taking it away. Forgetting Jigano is not one of them, for he is one of them, Amalia speaks again. "All we have done is try to protect them. We took them in, our gods favored them, and for what? They have gone against what the Old Ones wanted, tried to change the world without asking what it will mean--" and Amalia stops to draw a breath, fire blazing behind her eyes, the leopardess rippling beneath her skin, waiting to break free. She does not say what else she thinks, suddenly aware of the fox in their lap, the Outlander who she has come to think of family, who Rory has come to love. Bitter, angry, she looks away, turning her gaze back to the spire, and sighs. a m a l i a You were young and you'd stare With a reverence unimpaired Searching in your dark eyes to find the stars already there