[SE] sky full of song

Amalia I took the stars from my eyes, I made a map They charge and cavort like the wild things they are, adults reduced to childish capers by gaiety and mirth. Amalia snatches at the crown on her head as it threatens to escape, displaced by too much jostling madness, her laughter a staggered peal as she struggles to cling to her prize. She might be worried about her own position, too, terrified to be released and slip down to the distant ground- but the hands that hold her are steadfast and firm, and the girl feels safe in their embrace. Slipping her wreaths around her left arm, she snakes out to catch another, catching one thrown by a cackling child. "Thank you! she laughs back into the wind, catching more attention from the bewildered crowd. Another passerby entertained by the show attempts to lasso her arm, but a shift in position leaves her hands empty, her victory unassured. "You did that on purpose!" the girl exclaims, beating mockingly at the behemoth's back, her indignation tempered by laughter as they continue their merry retreat. At last they slow their slapdash retreat, reaching the edges of the dense, merry crowd. Amalia slides neatly off Deimos' shoulder, her bare feet lighting lightly on stone as she stumbles, reaching out thoughtlessly to grab his arm and steady herself. It is a strangely intimate action - unexpectedly so, considering their recent proximity - and she drops it as soon as her senses settle, pulling bashfully away. Still dizzy, delighted, the girl spins away, toes in pursuit of greener pastures. As the glacier takes count the baker collapses, falling breathless upon her back in the soft, warm loam. "I can't do math standing," Amalia declares, a wholly facetious proclamation, and pats the earth at her side. A flower crowned in vibrant gold, she grows into the earth, tawny hair messy and splayed around her, a messy halo of light. She is breathing heavily, her narrow chest heaving against the thin green cloth, the curve of her diaphragm nearly visible beneath its negligible weight. Her breath caught, the girl draws herself back up, rising on narrow, dirt-stained elbows and searching for her challenger with bright, gleeful eyes. "A tie, then!" she declares boldly, raising her three crowns in proud display. Setting them down, the girl grabs one and begins absently decimating it, gathering the least crushed blossoms neatly in her lap and throwing the rejects innocently at the man. And I knew that somehow I could find my way back