Amalia
the shield of safrin
The blow lands true, her strange trick triumphant; standing above him on unsteady legs, the half-qilin grins at his concession, eyes bright with pride, the lines of stress fading away. "I win." Not gone - never gone - but lessened by his acceptance, his grace and forgiveness, by him.
She lets her body shift again, regaining that familiar form he holds so easily in his arms. Only a few characteristics remain: the streaks of lilac in her hair, the nubs of horns, the feline eyes. Small and slender, she is far from the wraith he met in a library so many years ago. She is muscle and lines, scars and growth; she is bigger now, bolder, more than herself.
She is his.
Stepping forward with a sigh, Amalia leans her head against his shoulder, finding a place in the curve of his body in which to nestle and dwell. "I don't care," she whispers against his skin, face tilting up into the crook of his neck. "Somewhere warm, and far away. Torchline, maybe. As long as it's with you."
She lets her body shift again, regaining that familiar form he holds so easily in his arms. Only a few characteristics remain: the streaks of lilac in her hair, the nubs of horns, the feline eyes. Small and slender, she is far from the wraith he met in a library so many years ago. She is muscle and lines, scars and growth; she is bigger now, bolder, more than herself.
She is his.
Stepping forward with a sigh, Amalia leans her head against his shoulder, finding a place in the curve of his body in which to nestle and dwell. "I don't care," she whispers against his skin, face tilting up into the crook of his neck. "Somewhere warm, and far away. Torchline, maybe. As long as it's with you."
everything that drowned me
taught me how to swim
taught me how to swim
