The assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something
The apartment belonging to Amalie West was based in one of the more common streets of Tolgalen. Not exactly an extravagant area, but not poor either. Middle Class at best. It was located on the third floor of your average apartment building. Although it was somewhat dreary looking on the outside, on the inside, it fared much better. Amalie had befitted it with her own personal tastes, a combination of modern-classic décor. With dark wood flooring, and white walls. When you stepped inside of the apartment, you would find her living room. In the centre was a burgundy sofa and matching armchair, placed just over a white faux fur rug. On the faux rug, there was a glass coffee table, which at present hosted a bottle of cherry brandy and a half-empty glass beside it. Across from the sofa was a fireplace and a mantel with various ornaments. To the right-hand corner of the room, there was an arched entryway which led into her kitchen. If you bypassed the arch, you would see a small corridor which would lead to her bedroom, bathroom, and various other rooms. It wasn't a large apartment, but it wasn't cramped either. Around the room, one would find multiple items; Midian style paintings, a Fabergé egg, a crystalised statuette of a ballerina and things of a similar aesthetic. Near the doorway there was a vinyl player, and next to it a stacks of records an assortment of jazz, classical, rhythm and blues. She had a tendency to collect music that she found soothing. There were also shelves, mounted with books, several of them. The books would cover a wide range of topics, assorted in various categories; fiction, non-fiction, genre and the like. The only thing the room seemed to lack was any personal photos; not a single picture was put up anywhere in the apartment. Almost as though it was more of a showroom than a place someone actually lived in.
Amalie lay on her sofa, her bare legs dangling over the arm of the couch. She was wearing what could only be described as pyjamas; some silk navy blue shorts and a matching tank. Her arm rested over her eyes; she was trying to relax a little. Although it wasn't exactly easy these days, her mind had been in quite the disarray since that incident in the Rose Garden Sweet Store. For a start, Johann had found out about her being a vessel to a seal, which wasn't so bad, even Mars's reaction had been acceptable. The problem incidentally lay with Anima. The being that had forced himself into her life without her consent and in a moment of bitter rage had taken over her body. It was completely unacceptable, not only had he forcibly taken control of her body and used her magic but on top of which he had attempted to kill a man. The man had been dangerous, but that didn't mean Amalie planned on killing him. She had only ever done that once, and although she understood it's necessity on certain occasions. She didn't feel that moment warranted it. He not only put someone's life at risk, but he almost lost her everything. What would Johann have said had she killed that man? She would have likely been stripped of her membership as a member of the West Fiore Trading Company. Additionally, with so many witnesses, she could've been arrested for second-degree murder.
The stress of the whole situation had taken its toll on her; she was overcome with even more waves of nausea that kept coming and going at random times. She didn't know how much longer she could deal with this physiological disadvantage if she didn't handle the matter soon. It could essentially put her at risk, what if she was fighting and she suddenly got nauseous and was rendered useless. The result of such an incident could easily result in her death.
And Death really wasn't on her agenda right now.
She moved her arm away from her face, wondering if she should change. She had received a message saying that Johann had wanted to talk to her. But she hadn't been able to bring herself to come to the guild, at least not with her fluctuating sickness. So she had sent over a sealed enveloped with her address on it. It was a bit of a risk, no one in the guild actually knew her real address. She rented a different apartment which is what she had put down as her address when she registered at the guild. The apartment she rested in now was her actual home. It was a little on the overcautious side, but she really didn't want to risk Charles finding out she had joined the West Fiore Trading Company and using that information to find her. She swung her legs over the arm of the chair, and sat up straight, using her right hand she ran it through her hair. Picking up the glass of cherry brandy with her left, she took a hearty swig. She noticed Anima was unusually quiet when she had a drink; she liked that. His silence was better for her because she was done talking to him at this point.