the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Someone called her jealous once. A crooked smile plays at Amalia's lips, and she can't help but wonder: "Was that Jigano?" The ire her friend holds for her goddess is not unknown to the Shield, source of irritation that it is. "She can be, I suppose. The same way anyone is jealous of the things they love."
Placing her elbows on the counter and her head on her chin, Amalia tilts her head. She's biting her cheek thoughtfully, dark eyes trained on Arialla. "I don't... think so. But.. you have to understand. Your home, your gods... they're not here. And there... you can't go back. I'm sorry."
Placing her elbows on the counter and her head on her chin, Amalia tilts her head. She's biting her cheek thoughtfully, dark eyes trained on Arialla. "I don't... think so. But.. you have to understand. Your home, your gods... they're not here. And there... you can't go back. I'm sorry."
