Amalia
the shield of safrin
Amalia begins to pile the sandwiches with far too many fixings: onion jam, lettuce, tomato, cheese, cured meat, cucumber, and finally more bread. It is good work, distracting from the thunderous beating of her heart, the anxious butterflies that beat against her stomach. Teaching, her... The idea is dizzying. What if she does poorly? What if she fails?
Loren's hand makes her pause, looking up at him through wide, dark eyes. A smile flickers across her face, underneath the blush: "I'll... I'll try," she promises softly, her alto impassioned and insecure. "What, ah... What did you want me to teach, anyway?"
Loren's hand makes her pause, looking up at him through wide, dark eyes. A smile flickers across her face, underneath the blush: "I'll... I'll try," she promises softly, her alto impassioned and insecure. "What, ah... What did you want me to teach, anyway?"
you are slowly growing
but you are still growing
and that is enough
