[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/5QbJPTs.png[/img][/center][hr][sub][color=d15e5e]Location:[/color] Outside the Jail[/sub][hr][hr] A storm. Ice like glittering lace, claiming every surface it could find. An arctic, churning, tidal wave that bloomed into existence from the very heart of all that Amaya was, with snow capped crests and untamable force. It spun around itself, wild and frantic and [i]alive[/i], as it slammed against the boundaries that made her. Amaya’s steps faltered the moment she passed the threshold of the door, winter air greeting her inside and out. There was overwhelming [i]solidity[/i], as the empty space she’d been grasping at was suddenly filled with magic. Her breath stuttered – and when she exhaled, slow and shaking, a cloud of frost passed her lips and billowed into the darkness. She was whole. Blinking, Amaya held the sudden thought in her mind – like it was a foreign object that she could raise to the moonlight and better see its patterns, its make. A voice cut through her thoughts, and Amaya nearly [i]jumped.[/i] Her head turned up towards the sound – the tall, female guard. The one who’d been standing sentry in the prison. Somehow, in the aftershocks of her own magic coursing through her veins, Amaya had forgotten that she wasn’t alone. The Lunarian woman – and four Aurelian guards – had turned to her, eyes heavy against her skin. A matching force to press back against her magic. Held together by the threat each side presented, Amaya drew herself up again and forced a semblance of calm. All the while, her magic thrashed in familiar patterns as it tried to resettle into her. Looking away from the guard’s soft face, Amaya turned her gaze down to find – a shred of dark, dried meat. Ice blue eyes darted up to the guard, to find her already chewing. She blinked back down to the jerky. …It [i]was[/i] jerky, right? Amaya had never actually had any. She’d seen it once before, drying on tall racks in the palace’s kitchen after one of her father’s hunting trips, salt and spices in the air. But she’d darted out of the kitchen before she could investigate any further – a small square of chocolate pinched between her fingers, two cups she hoped no one would miss, her pilfered supplies were damning in her hands as she heard footsteps echoing down the hall towards the kitchen. Amaya had darted away, back to where Elara waited quietly in her room, her heart pounding the whole way back. It had taken over a week before she’d finally convinced herself that no one had seen her that night. Violet eyes watched her now. She couldn’t help herself – Amaya searched for hidden edges, sharp blades layered beneath careful actions and words unsaid. Looking back up at the guard, her open expression, her simple offering, Amaya lifted a hesitant hand. She took the bit of hard, dried meat between two fingers. [color=d15e5e]“Thank you,”[/color] she said softly. Her stomach clenched painfully around itself. Amaya hadn’t eaten since this morning – and while she didn’t usually need much, the day had been a good deal more [i]active[/i] than she was used to. Walking, riding, [i]talking[/i] – hunger was often easy enough to ignore, but as she held the jerky and sniffed at it lightly, she found her mouth watering. Her entire body suddenly seemed heavier, her head less clear, as she remembered that she was [i]exhausted[/i]. Still, the foreign bit of meat in her hand seemed to stare back at her. Movement caught her eye and she glanced up to see the Aurelian guards, tending to the horses a few feet away. One of them was looking back at her — the brown eyed man who’d watched her in the temple. He had one hand resting against her horse’s silver neck, the other on her reins, as he met Amaya’s gaze. His eyes flicked down to the jerky she held. Then back up. His eyebrows raised slightly. There was a question in his gaze as he waited for some cue for her, some sign of [i]what[/i] exactly she was waiting for. Then something seemed to shift. The corner of his mouth twitched up in encouragement as he looked back down at the jerky before returning her gaze. Amaya tore her eyes away, back to the Lunarian beside her. Finally, she forced past her hesitation and tore off a small shred of meat and slipped it between her lips. Salt, smoke, and a subtle, earthy spice filled her mouth. She chewed slowly, eyes unfocused as she catalogued it all. The flavors, the texture… The simplicity. Not just of the meat, but how it’d been offered. Amaya chewed silently, watching the Aurelians as they saw to the horses. That guard wasn’t looking at her. But there was something soft in his eyes as he ran a soothing hand down the horse’s neck. Amaya watched him move, the way his eyes looked over the horse’s mane, her saddle, the buckles. For a moment, she remembered him in the temple – standing across from her, two corpses between them. One nameless. The other, almost entirely unknown, but for the silent threat he’d represented for Amaya’s entire life. Until he’d died for her. The Lunarian guard was speaking again. Her voice shot through Amaya like the cold, that familiar armor again stilling her. Amaya looked up at her again, and it was like being back in the prison, reaching for the frigid storm of her magic and only finding emptiness. There was still no edge to her voice. No pointed reprimands or dismissals. Just that simple openness as she asked Amaya what she wanted to do – where she wanted to go. Something stirred in her, restless as her magic. [color=d15e5e]“That won’t be necessary,”[/color] she replied once she’d finally swallowed. [color=d15e5e]“I just… needed to step outside.”[/color] And get the guard out of earshot of whatever Flynn was discussing with the prisoner. Her stomach twisted around itself, nerves curling around her heart. Doubt crept in. The air around her hand was cold, the space beside her far too empty – too open, without Flynn’s warmth and shadow enveloping her. She’d been so surprised when Flynn had allowed her to unwind her fingers from his, and pull away. Some part of her had nearly panicked at it – that he hadn’t held fast and kept her in place beside him. That he hadn’t kept her from making a mistake. [color=d15e5e]“But thank you,”[/color] she added, looking back up at the tall guard, [color=d15e5e]“for the offer.”[/color] It surprised Amaya how very much she [i]meant[/i] those words. Standing in the frigid air, Amaya’s gaze traced over the five guards surrounding her – and all the open space they didn’t claim. [i]Why[/i] had she insisted on coming out here, away from the shelter of walls and Flynn? Suspicion? An overabundance of caution? The prisoner’s ghostly eyes flashed in her mind again, and his torrent of words. His tattoo. His smile. Bits of a puzzle, creating a picture Amaya couldn’t see yet. She should’ve stayed inside. Listened. Been [i]useful[/i]. Instead she’d [i]abandoned[/i] Flynn to shoulder the conversation alone, because he was unconcerned with someone from a rival kingdom – [i]her[/i] kingdom – listening to every incriminating thing the prisoner had to say about his family. Ice crawled through her lungs, up her spine. A thin chill that numbed her skin. Amaya watched the shadows in the distant treeline grow deeper, seen through the falling snow. Blinking away, Amaya tore another small strip of the jerky away to slip into her mouth. She tried to quiet the whirling, repetitive thoughts in her mind. The two women stood like that for a time, silent as winter. [color=d15e5e]“May I ask your name?”[/color] Amaya was caught off guard by her own question, soft as snow. She turned her head again to look up at the guard. Tall, imposing… but with a gentle sort of beauty to her features. Amaya took her in again, like she might find that distant [i]coldness[/i] that she’d grown so used to from her fellow Lunarians – from those who wore a uniform and carried blade. [color=d15e5e]“I don’t believe I ever saw you at the palace.”[/color] Maybe that was why Amaya dared to ask – to engage. Maybe that was why this guard didn’t hold her at such careful distance. A familiar fear crept up Amaya’s spine as she watched the guard, urging her to pull back – to be still and silent. But she thought of Sir Abel, still and silent on the table. Something flickered in her, more potent than her fear. More painful. She saw his face, a mask of death, and thought of all the conversations they’d never have. The rage she’d never hurl at him. The questions she’d never ask him. [color=d15e5e]“Where were you stationed before Dawnhaven?”[/color] [hr] [sub][color=d15e5e]Interactions:[/color] Daphne Athenus [@PrinceAlexus][/sub]