>>5177601It takes you a few minutes more to wrap up the logistics with the Daughters on call, waving goodbye to Dorian and Amara before they set off on their appointed task just as Paloma gets an idea.
“Oh oh oh! You said you were going out to meet Leviathan, right? So you’ll need a boat!”The Skintalker exclaims suddenly. “I heard the ship that made contact with Leviathan recently is docked for the next few hours after dropping off her passengers, and I just so happen to have the coordinates to a Waystation that’ll put you right next to the port.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. If you could shoot that info over to Orwell, I’d appreciate it…” You say your helmet splitting sling the sides as the front half skitters back into your spine. “...and I think that just about covers everything for right now. If anyone runs into any issues, you know where to reach me.”
With that, the swarmling that is the back half of your helmet disengages, slipping back between your shoulders as you make your way over to Amara’s room, the door already cracked open an inch or two. Giving the door a gentle knock, there’s a small sound from inside…it doesn't sound like ‘go-away, so you take your chances and enter.
It’s changed since the last time you were here, last. Gone are the toys and sketches that littered the floor, replaced with a scattering of rugs with wildly different shapes and designs. Seems like she’s been having a go at the Forge, given the designs on display—and it doesn't end at the floor. No, the shelves on either side of the room hang with accountements you’ve never seen Amara wear, seemingly tossed about to be admired by their creator’s own roving eye. Glancing about the space, you think you even catch echoes of Julia and Dorian’s own artistic stylings, mirrored by your little one’s perceptive eye.
Your heart aches to see evidence of Amara testing out a set of skills that aren’t on the battlefield.
A girl trying to find herself, at the end of the world.
And there, at the foot of your little girl’s bed…
…a shadow that doesn’t quite belong.
“How’re you holding up after everything with Merkabah?” You ask, your opener apparently catching Amara’s guest off her guard.
“Uh…fine, I guess?” The young girl stammers, feet dangling off the edge of the bed. “I’ve fought tougher. A lot tougher.”
“I’m sure you have, but you helped us all the same. I appreciate that.” You continue with an earnest smile…one that quickly runs away from your face, once you see just how uncomfortable the expression’s made the girl before you. “Sorry if we’ve kept you. To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t excuse yourself when you got the chance.”
(Continued)
