Amalia
the shield of safrin
It is a useless platitude. She can feel her frustration rising, aggravation gripping at her nerves, tensing feline muscular beneath the human skin. Knitting her brows, she shakes her head. "Kindness doesn't leave scars." Scars on their bodies, scars on their minds.
Damage is damage, in the end.
Suddenly the Shield springs lightly to her feet, unwinding from her coiled posture to pull herself taut as a bowstring. In a smooth, fluid movement Amalia reaches down, plucking a large rock between her fingers, raising it up above her head. Her arm arcs elegantly as she draws it back, tightening, winding, and then-
release.
The rock goes flying, and Amalia's voice follows, a strange reflection of a similar day what feels like eons ago. "FUCK ALL OF IT," she snarls, howls, screams, watching the stone arc away.
Then, turning back to Ronin with that same feral glint, she jerks her head toward another rock. "Your turn."
Damage is damage, in the end.
Suddenly the Shield springs lightly to her feet, unwinding from her coiled posture to pull herself taut as a bowstring. In a smooth, fluid movement Amalia reaches down, plucking a large rock between her fingers, raising it up above her head. Her arm arcs elegantly as she draws it back, tightening, winding, and then-
release.
The rock goes flying, and Amalia's voice follows, a strange reflection of a similar day what feels like eons ago. "FUCK ALL OF IT," she snarls, howls, screams, watching the stone arc away.
Then, turning back to Ronin with that same feral glint, she jerks her head toward another rock. "Your turn."
She wants the silence but fears the solitude
she wants to be alone and together with you
she wants to be alone and together with you
