Ni'Srilan: The Desert: amelia ;

They are all so different. Hypatia wonders how she can keep them all straight for a second, but each one is so different. Not like a taste or a smell, like Pirate said, but from their feelings, from the way they approach her. There are those that are skeptical and weary, that ask her politely (or not so politely, in their heads) to stay away. And she does. And there are those, like Amelia, that are simply so innocent, so free, that Hypatia wants to revel in the feeling of their mind forever.

“Kail doesn’t always have nice conversation.” Hypatia tries not to laugh, to look almost deadly serious, but her lips twitch and her eyes burn. Kail glares up at her and flashes his fangs. “He’s not a threat, don’t worry.” Just in case, you know, the fangs gleamed.

Amelia speaks of what she’s been doing, and Hypatia stands serious then, Kail too. “Amelia,” Hypatia’s voice is calm and satisfying. Her eyes are warm and she steps closer to the mare. “Scholars sometimes do that.” She used to, but never to her students. “The Academy can be…drugging.” She remembers forgetting whole parts of time. But that’s a thought for another day.

“As Ambassador too, I want you to go to Desrael and speak to some of the other realms inhabitants. Or just go there. You can do that anytime.” The Wolves have no problem with that anyway. “Lycoris is a good choice. She won’t leave you.” Hypatia wonders if she’ll rainbow-ify Amelia. She’ll just have to wait. “She’ll teach you patience, at least.” That’s for sure.

“Amelia,” the Queen says this almost as a side-note, a glanced at thought. “How is the morale of the people you’ve been speaking too?”

Anything for Ni’Srilan.