Amalia
the shield of safrin
Dropping down cautiously, Amalia comes to stand beside Wessex. Half of her is still terrified of the woman, but the helplessness, the frustration... it pains her to see her once-friend reduced like this. She spent enough time with the illness not to wish it on anyone else. Slowly, carefully, she reaches out, trying to take the Wraith's hand in hers, to look into her eyes and make sense of what is being said.
"What did you see, Wessex?" Amalia murmurs, rubbing her thumb cautiously over the back of Wessex's hand if she'll allow. "The metal... is that what the Ascended need to be well? Will it be a permanent cure?"
"What did you see, Wessex?" Amalia murmurs, rubbing her thumb cautiously over the back of Wessex's hand if she'll allow. "The metal... is that what the Ascended need to be well? Will it be a permanent cure?"
make peace with your broken pieces
