AMALIA
save some love for yourself, my dear
It is, Amalia agrees softly, wishing there were more she could do and hating herself for her doubt. She is tired, though, tired and weak, crushed by seeing Safrin so foreign, by fighting her loved ones, by weeks of defeat. But it's something
Ianto's bow is a surprisingly friendly and bright action in a time when their greetings seem to revolve more around survival than wellness. Though she is not cold - the leopard fur on her bare skin protects her from the elements better than any coat - she finds herself slipping beneath his arm, grateful for the simple contact, the warmth of friendship without question.
"I have faith, too," the girl whispers, her eyes on the rose Ianto just planted, a quiet determination on her expressive face. "I have faith in Vi, that he will cure the blighted." She only wishes there was more she could do until then.
Turning toward Ianto, the baker manages a small smile, raising an eyebrow to the fox. "I haven't seen you in a while. Are you healed up from the Cloisters?"
Ianto's bow is a surprisingly friendly and bright action in a time when their greetings seem to revolve more around survival than wellness. Though she is not cold - the leopard fur on her bare skin protects her from the elements better than any coat - she finds herself slipping beneath his arm, grateful for the simple contact, the warmth of friendship without question.
"I have faith, too," the girl whispers, her eyes on the rose Ianto just planted, a quiet determination on her expressive face. "I have faith in Vi, that he will cure the blighted." She only wishes there was more she could do until then.
Turning toward Ianto, the baker manages a small smile, raising an eyebrow to the fox. "I haven't seen you in a while. Are you healed up from the Cloisters?"
