At that, she decided to stop. It was now clear like water that she couldn’t exactly explain her own mind to him in a way he would agree, and she had no desire of playing along as if she actually agreed with Matthew, understood him. Yes, she was curios to pick up his motives and why he has come to think like this, but she just didn’t want to have the topic getting out of hand and becoming an argue that had no actual reason. After all, one thing she had understood in Ravok was that people defend their own thoughts like it’s the last thing they own, one wrong word and this lovely setting might just turn into a battle field. And nobody wanted that, right?
But Amelia had to admit, he was good in what he did. She couldn’t remember ever being touched like this, so simple and casual like he wasn’t putting the slightest thought in it. And despite the motions being so simple, it was possible for Matthew to feel her reacting to his touch, a shiver and a not so willing whimper as he kept stroking her legs. Once his hands found a resting place just above her hips as he answered, Amelia placed her own palms over them.
She didn’t have an answer to his question, because she was just curios. There was little reason behind her asking that aside from her desire for everything to make sense. She didn’t have any emotional backup for it, no common reasoning behind it, just plain curiosity that often got her in trouble, one time too many in this city. So she didn’t answer him, sure that it was much better to ignore his question than give silly answers. It might be rude, as Amelia did throw questions at the harlot more than he did at her, and he most definitely answered more often and potentially more truthful. You could call her secretive and wanting to give a mysterious aura about herself, but it was more than just acting or a quirk. It was a wall with who is felt the best with.
None the less, she was enjoying herself in the given position. The Cross didn’t really want to say or hear anything besides the water washing against their bodies, the wind whistling as it went through the trees of bronze wood and their own breaths. So with the girl ignoring any attempts to socialize, the air became quiet and the one who listened, was able to hear the music nature played. The young girl thought of it as songs played by Rhaus for the mother of nature, and she listened to it eagerly, the melody that she seemed to pick up. In no time she was humming along, but only to the one who listened would it seem as ‘humming along’, to the others, it would be nothing but a solo of daydreaming girl.
