Amalia
"What kind of form?" Amalia wonders, her curiosity distracting her from his discomfort, fascinated with this idea of his transformation beneath the moon. Or maybe she does notice, because though she blushes the baker pushes forward with an awkward joke. "Was it... ah... enhanced in, in other ways?" The flush of her cheeks and her slight playful giggle make it terribly apparent what she means.
Oh, she wishes she didn't have to explain this. "Well. There are two ways that I know of. One is to go to a Shrine to the Voice, and she... she replenishes it somehow, I think." That is the less unpleasant way, despite what others might say. "The other way is to... to drink it from a person." Something Amalia has never partaken in, and hopefully never will.
Oh, she wishes she didn't have to explain this. "Well. There are two ways that I know of. One is to go to a Shrine to the Voice, and she... she replenishes it somehow, I think." That is the less unpleasant way, despite what others might say. "The other way is to... to drink it from a person." Something Amalia has never partaken in, and hopefully never will.
