AMALIA
save some love for yourself, my dear
Tilting her head, the leopardess snorts. Does he not recognize her from their last trip to the Spire, their ill-fated jaunt into the woods? Does he know so very many big cats that she is unremarkable? It seems unlikely, but the leopard shrugs, more focused on the duty of guarding the roses than pushing the limits of friendship. Ianto is not sick, and Amalia is not sick, and these days that's all they can ask for.
She watches him shift to half-fox claws, tilting her head at his question, not quite sure how to reply. If she is, she is a poor one. I... check on them. Someone has to, with the Blighted running rampant, and though she is clearly stretched toward her limit she will continue to do all she can.
What about you? Did you plant one by your wagon? She wants to know where the roses are, to check on more and more. She wants to do everything she can, because there are so few ways for her to help, and doing nothing feels like giving up.
She watches him shift to half-fox claws, tilting her head at his question, not quite sure how to reply. If she is, she is a poor one. I... check on them. Someone has to, with the Blighted running rampant, and though she is clearly stretched toward her limit she will continue to do all she can.
What about you? Did you plant one by your wagon? She wants to know where the roses are, to check on more and more. She wants to do everything she can, because there are so few ways for her to help, and doing nothing feels like giving up.
