Amalia
"Ha." It is Amalia's turn to grow uncomfortable, a distinct lack of mirth in the monosyllabic laugh. Normally the girl might have bloomed shyly beneath the praise, but with the recent assault of her self confidence it feels more like mockery of all the ways she has failed. Still, she knows he did not mean to hurt her, and she rallies, trying to school her face into something more like its earlier mirth, to hide the cracking edges of her heart.
Ianto's admittance to the lying nature of his new friend is somewhat disheartening, but she trusts the Fae to know when anyone does not belong to their woods. "Do you think I might meet him?" the girl wonders, pulling thoughtfully on her fingers. She would probably be able to figure out if he came from the Grounds or not, and the myriad of questions that sit on her tongue cannot be satisfied by Ianto alone. "Did he say what the place he came from was like?"
Ianto's admittance to the lying nature of his new friend is somewhat disheartening, but she trusts the Fae to know when anyone does not belong to their woods. "Do you think I might meet him?" the girl wonders, pulling thoughtfully on her fingers. She would probably be able to figure out if he came from the Grounds or not, and the myriad of questions that sit on her tongue cannot be satisfied by Ianto alone. "Did he say what the place he came from was like?"
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
