Amalia
the shield of safrin
She keeps her eyes fixed on him, focused on the radiant comfort that is his figure in a world of uncertainty and chaos and pain. One step forward, one step back; measure for measure Amalia meets him, not springing yet, not running or fleeing, always keeping just out of reach. His mirror, though smaller and lither in her actions, their dance a playful, unbending thing.
So it goes for one step and another, until the earth behinds her change. Too late the Shield realizes what has happened; spinning around she finds the wall, her palms pressing flush on earth and stone. Outplayed, out maneuvered, by a master of the game, Amalia looks at the creation in dumb surprise, her mouth formed into a silent O as she waits for him to claim his triumph, her capture inevitable from the start.
So it goes for one step and another, until the earth behinds her change. Too late the Shield realizes what has happened; spinning around she finds the wall, her palms pressing flush on earth and stone. Outplayed, out maneuvered, by a master of the game, Amalia looks at the creation in dumb surprise, her mouth formed into a silent O as she waits for him to claim his triumph, her capture inevitable from the start.
i belong to you
the way the stars belong to the moon
the way the stars belong to the moon
