@hatecoded || s.c
Amalie is used to odd things. After all, they curate a great amount of it, the laws of nature bending to their whim, and life coming unwound in their iron grasp. There is little of life that Amalie cannot touch, and really, they revel in the nature of it. However, the restriction to healing is difficult, given that they cannot do as they have always done, flocking in the nature of Phanuel and venting frustration with the worst parts of society.
Amalie’s existence likely adds to those numbers, but they’ve always felt that one reducing the numbers provided at least a bit of good in the world.
For now, they’re content to keep moving, to try and get heads or tails of this part of the world until things feel a little less backwards. It looks a lot like a city, though its inhabitants are odd enough for Amalie to question whether or not a fever has taken their body captive. It seems not, having pressed their hand against their forehead, checking for that tell-tale burning.
“Such an odd place. Terribly, terribly odd.” There is a flower in their hands, threatening to crumble into nothing under the force of their powers, held back by sheer willpower. Glancing to someone else, they end up blinking a few times, struck dumb for just a beat. “I would ask how you are doing, but I doubt anyone is particularly settled in this place.”