andhiswife | (Reply)

Oh, and now she's just going to... right. Greta averts her gaze, cheeks prickling a little despite -- or perhaps because of -- Amalthea's apparent lack of concern. Then again, why would she be concerned? Greta's seen the transformation before, if not in this direction. She'd hugged her, last time. This is far less intimate by comparison. Still, Greta keeps her gaze elsewhere until the tell-tale flash of light draws her eye back to Amalthea. And by then, she's back to normal, and it feels a bit less rude to stare.

Amalthea looks back at her expectantly, and Greta picks her way forward, her steps faltering for just a moment when she crosses that invisible border. It's been some time since she felt that little jolt of magic, that shift from wood to Wood, and for a moment, she fancies that it felt a bit... different. A faint, perplexed line appears between her brows, then fades. It's probably just her imagination. Or she's misremembering. It's not as if she's been a frequent visitor these past few months.

She shifts her focus back to Amalthea, the sight of her enough to bring a smile to her face. It's small, and a little weary, but it's there. "It's always a relief to see you looking as you ought to," she says, drawing close enough to rest a hand on the unicorn's shoulder.