I run to the river and dive straight in
I pray that the water will drown out the din
Remi's appearance and obvious distress are a beacon to the Angel; she presses a hand gently to his elbow, squeezing in silent reassurance, knowing he'll feel her outpouring of love and sorrow. Let's break shit, she suggests through the bond- anything, not just shrines. It can help.
But the shrine is a good start. Free of rope and hammers, Amalia eyes the thing from a small distance, waiting for her moment. And when it comes - the cracks growing in the thing's base, the stones coming unsettled - she raises her hands, visualizing warm light in those cracks. Slowly she pulls her hands apart, and as she does the hard light expands, filling the fragile spaces like levers might, trying to tilt the thing towards where Sera and Gideon pull.
But the shrine is a good start. Free of rope and hammers, Amalia eyes the thing from a small distance, waiting for her moment. And when it comes - the cracks growing in the thing's base, the stones coming unsettled - she raises her hands, visualizing warm light in those cracks. Slowly she pulls her hands apart, and as she does the hard light expands, filling the fragile spaces like levers might, trying to tilt the thing towards where Sera and Gideon pull.
i swallow the sound and it swallows me whole
'Til there's nothing left inside my soul
Amalia
