Milton
It was more or less during the day, the sky was grey but the voices of people were loud and gorged on joyous interaction. She applauds this feeble city for being so quick to get back upon their own feet when a mess is next to them. Seeing the frailty of the world around them shatter in both aspects, it's strange and forces you to stand in one place till you sort yourself out or somebody shakes you out. Amelie loves to have the former. 

She figured she needed to be away with the people she has been closely near lately. Those she has been close to she has felt she has messed up with. Causing too many figures to open up holes. She dosent want that guilty hidden stare from Anja. She did something wrong and she feels guilty, she knows, she knows.
She dosent want to be around Owen at all anymore, she thought she'd be better now that they've stop giving eachother stares but frankly it has gotten worse. Now Owen only ever speaks of Uriel. Amelie wanted to fight Basil for her, for her, and Owen said it should be for URIEL as well. Uriel has done *Nothing* To warrent something from her. 

She needs a moment or eternity away from that mess, it makes her uncomfortable. She saw Akvile return and she was filled with joy. 

It has been so long and she gets to see her darling friend again. Despite the sheepish and skittish movements all Amelie wishes to so with Akvile is spend hours of her day just speaking to her. It has been far too long. 

The day is long, the market is loud and free. There's so much to choose from today, she hopes Akvile will like it. So she stands tall outside the market waiting for her friend, cane in hand. The bandages fresh and unstained. She breathes and she finds herself without shudder. This will be an unburdened moment, she hopes.
Arlene
Mottled greys stretched across the sky, infinite and tucked into the horizon like a quilt, and Akvilė felt engulfed in its comfort.

Maybe it was the sun's powerlessness against the blanket pulled overhead, keeping the half of her that worried in comfortable darkness while letting the half of her driven by insatiable curiosity explore a devil lighter. But then it might have been circumstance, three and a half months' separation at an end within sight beckoning her forward and off the city bus in a flowing mass of beautiful fabric and knits. Maybe it didn't matter. She stepped off the bus with her radio grasped in the folds of her fingers, glanced up fron behind the odd wayward strand of hair, and felt an unsure smile spread across her face. It was nice out.

Snapped out of her thoughts by the creeping awareness of her stillness against the nonstop motion of the city around her, she stepped into motion with a bead of sweat along her forehead and an excited yet unmistakably timid gait. Nature, after all, was nature: immovable, unnegotiable, omnipresent. Nature for her was to scurry, to stick to the shadows, to let the tapestry above blanket her in obscuring comfort, but Amelie wasn't waiting for her in the shadows. She was waiting for her, cane in hand and unmarred by blooded bandages, near the east gate, recognized by her hair through the iron fence round the plaza's perimeter. A small gasp forced its way from her throat as she hurried herself, her face softening, thoughts running nervous and excited and happy all at once. She quickly made her way through the crowds, never letting her gaze falter. Soon she turned the corner, and Amelie saw that part of her that only she saw. The eager yet timid smile, the wide eyes, the radio swaying emotively in her loose grip, the general looseness and friendly air that nobody else saw in her.

-

"Uh... Hi, Amelie! It-it's been a while, no?" Plain as day she announced her presence, standing a pace away and holding back the driving urge in her to wrap her arms around her friend tenderly, hold her there for a moment, smell her, simply enjoy the contact. But Amelie wasn't an easy friend to feel, or it wouldn't have been kind. Whatever it was that stopped her, it stopped her yet never wiped that desire from her posture. "You, um... You must have come from hospital recently. Fresh... Fresh bandages. Y-yeah."

She smiled a genuine smile, and left the forum open for Amelie to stroll and lay the mottled blanket of her tightly weaved life upon her.

I just. Went a little bit nuts lol
Milton
Amelie stood tall, she felt like a judge to most yet only a friend to the woman before her. 

"It has been far too long." 
She feels the fondness for the woman in her throat slick through her teeth. Her friend was a warm yet bleeding heart she thought, yet Amelie was here to cup the bleeding with her hands and cover it entirely. She can see the girl look like she wishes for a hug but her mouth thins in the slight pang of guilt for not being able to give Akvilė what she deserves.

The take at her bandages, yes she did make sure they were clean. She cannot go into public looking like she got hit by a train all the time. She takes pride in her physical image, just to make sure pity isn't the main thing she receives. She didn't want to glare at everyone, yet she would. 
"Yes, I cannot look terrible when this is a good day after all." 

She stands aside, motioning a hand outward to the colourful array of stalls before them. 
"After you, M'lady."
Arlene
It *Had* Been far too long. She concurred that thought with a nod before she ever opened her mouth.

"It-it has, has it not?" Perpetually uncertain, the words leaving her mouth dripped with hesitancy as if she didn't know what to say. She never did. What she did know, though, was that the farmer's market beckoned with its colourful stalls as much as it lit her body up with the urge to disappear, hide around a corner or behind a bin, anywhere that wouldn't leave her out to be perceived. The skittishness bristled within her; she looked back at her friend as something in her caught the wave of her hand.

"M'lady? Is that– is that not... Never mind." As easily as the gears had been loosed and spun in her skull they came to a grinding halt, the translation module in her noggin apparently parsing out that one word into her native Lithuanian just fast enough to save her from making a complete fool of herself. Though, would Amelie have even minded? Perhaps not. She laughed softly. "I, uh. I understand, yes. You care much about your, um... Image. Better than– better than I." She gestured to her own outfit, itself composed of an old floral dress and a knit cardigan and woolen tights. "I look like grandmother... But, um. Let's go."

Lurching into motion she paid great attention to her friend's walking speed. Amelie, after all, was held back by her own skeleton wanting to escape, so she couldn't just scurry through the crowds in an anxious tizzy like she often did, flitting from stall to stall and snacking the entire time. Instead she held herself slow and steady, matching pace with Amelie in gnarled silence for a few moments, the radio in her fingers bumping against her hip and thigh like the pendulum of a clock. She cleared her throat.

-

"It's quite... Uh... Active, isn't it? English word evades me." She commented now that they were inside the plaza itself. "I usually come later in day for, um... This reason." She continued, matching pace with Amelie and glancing between her and a few close booths. "But, um... Wh-which do you like?"

It was clear something was getting lost in translation, and it clearly bothered her. It was just the woes of speaking three languages: there'd always be one a little weaker than the rest. It didn't stop her from feeling quite awkward, though.

[Whoops I went outta control pff]
Milton
Akvile stumbling over her own speech did not evade Amelie under any circumstance. Her words breaking and repeating like one with no ability to walk. 

She ignored it and continued to walk slowly, her cane hitting the ground making just enough noise that the crowd splits at her call. It was good enough for what was supposed to be a destressing outing. This would be a good time to test how she was doing in the polish language.
"*Kwiaty i przyprawy.*"

It was scratchy and sounded like it hurt but Amelie continued to walk and beckon Akvile forwards with her.
 "Szukać czegoś?"
She was clearly stumbling but she was trying, she grimaced and hoped Akvile would know what she is trying to talk about. 

The girl in question looked small to where she towered over her now. At least she could hopefully see her in a crowd, people would trample over her less. Bargaining was going on and the heated tones of swedish traveled over the two. 

She could tell Akvile wished to go faster but didn't want to lose Amelie in the process. She couldn't do anything about it even though it made her guilty. The girl needed a better place than this. Maybe past this market, in a suitable area with less people. Perhaps they can even go beyond the small city. It would certainly do Akvile good. A part of Amelie wished to see the radio towers she was traveling to so often. 

Perhaps another day.
Arlene
*Polish!* Akvilė audibly gasped, albeit softly.

"Kwiaty i przyprawy? Super!" Like swapping masks, her entire demeanour shifted noticeably once she slipped into her beloved Polish. There was little hesitation, nor a stutter. Really, it seemed her innate personality came through better– or perhaps she was just relaxed. Walking at matched pace with Amelie her eyes darted from stall to stall excitedly, almost like a kid in a candy store with a crisp fifty in their tiny fist. "Chcę po prostu patrzeć. Może kupię barwniki i trochę zielonki? Nie wiem." She continued.

As the pair walked, though, Akvilė picked up on a little trepidation from her dear friend. A grimace, a guilty look, the knitting of the muscles in her face. She could see it in her that she felt as if she were an iron ball chained about the other's ankle, ultimately weighing her down, and it welled up something despondent within her, something that yearned to know exactly what bothered her. It didn't help that in this moment she locked eyes with a young man, tall and dark-haired, and nearly stumbled into a barrel of potatoes as she found herself nearly transfixed by his temporary presence and the waft of cologne that trailed in his wake like a cape. Her entire face– alongside her ears– went red in the aftermath, and she retreated inwards into the fabrics she'd draped herself in and the hair she kept straight.

Seemingly she'd been rendered speechless by that one-two wallop. All she could do in that moment of red-faced sweat-slicked embarrassment was turn to Amelie and let out a very throaty whine. What could she say? She'd nearly barreled through a barrel while admiring a man. She'd be having *Nightmares!*
Milton
Amelie sweeps her arm outward catching Akvile the moment the woman finds herself off kilter. She can feel her face morph into something akin to worry and fear in *Seconds*. 

Akvile is fine. Amelies arm goes to rest stiffly by her side. 
She looks Akvile over once to make sure she isn't hurt as she feels her arm lose feeling for more than a second.

The woman beside her whines in discontent and Amelie looks over the crowd. Finding that boy was relatively easy for her now due to her, admittedly now confusing height. She finds herself grimacing at the look of him. She looks down to Akvile warbled stare with a frown gracing her features. 
"Wygląda, jakby nie potrafił wymawiać samogłosek."
She leans down. 
"Naprawdę?"

She makes a noise in the back of her throat and rolls her eyes. 
"Wyglądasz lepiej. Chodź teraz."
She stands fully and puts her free hand on her hip, waiting on Akvile to collect herself.
Arlene
As if nearly barreling into a bucket of potatoes in the presence of a cute guy wasn't bad enough, Amelie had her own piece to say. By the time she's done expressing her distaste for the guy Akvilė finds herself compelled into reaction. She usually is much too timid, but Ame is different. She gets the *True* Her, and so she does.

"Nie potrafi wymawiać samogłosek? Amelie!" As it sinks in her embarrassment deepens, and she can't help but reach out and playfully smack her friend's arm– but just once. She lets out a noise between a laugh and a pleading whine and shrinks into herself a little. "Jesteś podły! B-Był bardzo w porządku. Bogowie odwalili kawał dobrej roboty." She continues. "Ale, uhm... Tak, naprawdę." She continues, translating justifications in her head and looking over at Amelie with an expression somewhere between shame and happiness. She knows her friend doesn't approve, but now that she's in motion... "Ciemnowłosi mężczyźni i, um... I kowboje... Mogą mnie mi– mieć. Bez wątpienia." 

It's a simple admission: she has a type. It's a shame her type doesn't like her back. A few moments more pass, quiet as moments in the farmer's market can be, and she eventually pulls her hair back a touch and looks over at her friend with a reddish face and a comfortably nervous expression. She's clearly chewing on something, unsure of how to spit it out but troubled by the prospect of just doing it. Then she does it;

"Ale o dziwo kowbojki tego nie robią. To znaczy dla mnie. Ja... Chyba mam inny gust. Mogę jeszcze trochę poszukać."

She falls silent, and paws strands of hair out of her sight.
Milton
Amelie snorted in amusement when Akvile went to smack her arm. She did not regret a single word of what she said, she didn't have the 'eye' her friend had. She didn't have an eye for most men really, to who is their own. Perhaps she hasn't found the one. 

Not that she wouldn't mind not finding 'the one'.
"Nie jestem chamski. Stwierdzam tylko prawdę." She stares to Akvile assumption. She really loathe to think of that man. 
Within moments Amelie was reduced to rolling her eye so hard it was almost lost like the other. (She needed the damn thing.) It is nice for Akvile to state what she wants, yet, Amelie cannot help but be judgemental of such tastes. Cowboys? They smell like manure and probably haven't known a proper bath that isn't a river in months. I guess that is what she thinks the beauty of it is, a muddy and disgusting man with a hat. Amelie can feel the grimace she sports wearing her features thin.

"Ja też nie widzę w nich atrakcyjności..."
She sighed and waved her hand around in the air. 
"Każdemu według własnego uznania, pomimo braków."

She wasn't about to start turning her own tastes to an obtuse angle, if she had ever thought about it as of late. Too much has happened and not enough time to think about smaller things. Death has no place for the lovesick, and she was filled with such an omen. 
Perhaps she will get that time eventually. 

She guides Akvile quickly out of sight of any other barrels and motions to some stalls. 
"Mam nadzieję, że nie ma tu nic, co mogłoby Cię rozpraszać?"
Arlene
Despite the embarrassment tugging still at her throat and her cheeks and her chest Akvilė could clearly see the shadows of annoyance painting Amelie's facial features in a new light. The peaks and valleys echoed her inner thoughts, and she couldn't help but heed the silent groan rebounding against the bridge of her nose and the depressions of her eye sockets.

"Uhm... Chyba tak." The lonesome part of herself, shut in as it was, was loath to retreat back into its closet, but how could she justify keeping it up when Amelie seemed to be growing annoyed with her, or at least her dubious taste in men? Whether it was actual annoyance or simply her own fearful, nervous brain shifting into protective gear was uncertain. The end result was the same though: Akvilė fell quiet and followed her friend, intentionally leaving her grip on her radio loose so it could smack her hip like a pendulum, humming in acknowledgement as Amelie spoke.

It went as such for the following couple of moments: Amelie forging forward through the crowds, and Akvilė timidly yet excitedly following in her wake. It wasn't all that different from her solo trips to the market, admittedly, and what that meant for her longness for this world bristled at the front of her brain like a most terrible of itches. 

Amelie's words snapped her out of her thoughts after a couple of moments, and her eyes immediately lit up as they began to curiously scan the tables surrounding the pair. "Och, Amelie... Jesz-jeszcze bardziej mnie rozproszyłaś." Soft laughter weaved itself through her words, timid as they were. "Mam nadzieję, że nie masz nic przeciwko..."

She turned her head to a booth selling knick-knacks and began to browse, looking over at Amelie after a bit just to make sure she hadn't driven her friend away by being dry. She always feared that.
Milton
Amelie's features smoother out as much as they could instantly. It wasn't hard considering her only having two-thirds of a face to work with. Her face was Stony for a moment, ignorant over the chatter of others. 

Amelies eye was narrowed as she looked out for other people, always vigilant about unwanted touch and interaction. She need not make a scene in the middle of the market no? She'd be a mere mosquito to her friend if she even let the thought entertain her. (It won't.) She'd rather be hated than deemed insignificant enough to be cast aside without thought. 

She hopes (selfishly) Akvile could never cast her aside so meaninglessly.

Amelie watched Akvile's attention be quickly taken by a rapture of interest. Amelie had specifically brought her to a trinkets area, she vaugley remembers Akvile being taken by radioactive objects. She fortunately still does not understand why. That is a question for later in her life... Perhaps on her deathbed. She makes a scoffing noise, her face softening.
"Bądź moim gościem."
She looks over the tables herself for a moment. 
"Sprowadziłem cię tu nie bez powodu."

Amelie hums as she walks over to a table with various old-looking necklaces. She turns to Akvile to speak to her again.
"Chyba że naprawdę jestem głupcem i nienawidzisz takich rzeczy."
Turning back to a stand she seems to leer at a necklace with a sort of rosary look, it probably was. 
"*Ich hoffe, ich bin kein Dummkopf*."
The stall standee looked perturbed for a moment because of her, but looked away because she was interested after all. It seemed that way for them.
Arlene
Busily pawing through the various knick-knacks on the adjoining table, Akvilė was a little saddened (but not surprised) to hear Amelie speak in such a way, exposing her doubts and flaying herself so casually it seemed a knee-jerk reaction instead of simple self-hate. She couldn't help but turn to Amelie, frowning lightly and turning her attention from the badumbs on the table to her good friend.

But what did she say back? Communication was her flaw; she looked at Amelie with a certain kind of fondness tinged in sadness for a moment, gathering the words in her mouth like gobs of spit.

"Ehm... Głupiec? Nie, nie," She shakes her head lightly, "Nie jesteś głupcem... A- nawet gdyby tak było, pozwoliłbym ci za-... Zabawiać mnie bez końca." Odd wording perhaps, but it feels as though it has to be said. At least it feels that way to Akvilė as she speaks the words, trying her damndest to chain how she feels about her friend together with her perennial stutter and Martian mind. She leans onto the ball of her foot, and in a single gentle motion that's perhaps lacking in clear thought reaches her hand out to massage Amelie's shoulder. "To ładna bud-budka. Lubię takie małe figurki... Chyba przy– przypominają mi dom. Lalki. To miłe."

It's clear in her posture and her expression she's grappling with something internally as she begins to peruse the table of necklaces Amelie had set her sights upon. They're nice, but not nice enough to distract her sufficiently.

"Na co jednak patrzyłeś? Wiele, um... Wiele ładnych naszyjników tutaj. I masz rację, lubię podobizny i takie tam."
Milton
Amelie stands tall, her back straight and her gaze no longer on the table but forward. She stills past curious eyes and things with loving meaning, past wood and earth and the death between it's wet soil. She stands in a warped place between her feet and the river she always stood against and next to Akvile a dear friend that dosent deserve her distant stares. 

To endlessly entertain is to always have something to say... She does, but none are fit to hear it. She'll entertain Akvile and a few others for now, even if her acts aren't as spectacular as they used to be. 

"Jestem zmęczony."
She says, her hand coming to hold her necklace that hangs like guilt around her throat.
"Nie wiem, jak cię zabawić."

She breathes, heavy, still breathing. 
"Przez chwilę nie chciałem być obok ciebie."
She looks to the hand Akvile placed on her shoulder. 
"Teraz ja robię."

"Więcej niż kiedykolwiek będziesz wiedział."

Amelie let's go of her necklace and takes Akvile's hand in her scarred own and turns herself to Akvile completely. Amelies hand is cold, there's no bones, not now.
"Może jestem głupcem."
She bows slightly, her head just before Akvile's face. 
"Teraz? Chętnie Cię zabawię."

.
Amelie drops Akvile's hand and turns quickly to the stall once more. She steps away from the necklaces and looks to other jewelries. 
"Teraz. Lalki? Nie mówiłeś, że myślisz o nich z czułością."
She looks back to the Necklaces and finds a brilliantly pieced together necklace with... A topaz within it's middle piece. She moves to point at the necklace and gently asks the stall owner how much it was, she takes out her wallet and begins to take out the krona necessary for it. She receives the necklace and puts it within her jacket pocket quickly along with her wallet.
"Naszyjniki są przepiękne, podobają mi się."
She mutters then looks to Akvile for a moment.
"Chociaż nie jestem na tyle głupi, żeby sądzić, że ci się spodobają."
She purses her lips on how awful that sounded.
"Przyznaję, że masz bardziej osobliwy gust."

She thins herself out a little looking outward and around their area to look for things Akvile would like. 
"Podoba mi się to w tobie."
She says casually, she snaps her finger and points to a stall.
"Myślenie o tym jest zabawne i interesujące."
She adds as she makes over to a different stall, one filled with more strange things that more align with Akvile's image that amelie has in her head.

"Wybierz, co chcesz. Moja nagroda za moją głupotę."
Arlene
**Oh my God I just remembered it's my turn**

If you see this Bucket. I'm sorry?