Ianto
Eeesh, the Hollowed Ground. Ianto had found the invitation, in that weird and wonderful way of his; it had found its way out from beneath the rock and fluttering through the window of his wagon, in fact. And having been given the green light from his godmother, his personal feelings on the place didn't matter a stitch. So it was in the balmy heat of the night that he found himself padding on four paws through the domilies, golden eyes sharp, ears swivelling at every sound as he found the house in the description.
Prowling up to the doorstep, he shifted back onto two legs and swept out his coat, brushing a hand through the tousled copper of his hair and reaching out to knock at the door. He supposed he should be thankful, really - at least he was getting to know more than the Fae, these days.
Prowling up to the doorstep, he shifted back onto two legs and swept out his coat, brushing a hand through the tousled copper of his hair and reaching out to knock at the door. He supposed he should be thankful, really - at least he was getting to know more than the Fae, these days.
