[When Amal begins with his tale, Alphinaud listens. The sounds of the café seem to dim to his senses, and everything being said somehow draws him in, like when Louisoix used to grab his and Alisaie's attention with a story. They were bright-eyed children back then, of course, but it didn't change a thing about the worlds he had brought them to, or how many things reminded him of his run-in with the fae so long ago.
As the story unfolds, something in him stirs, a warmth that he's never really recognized before, one that recalls just as the other speaks. As if he remembers being there, with Amal, through all of this. Alphinaud, of course, knows that isn't true of this life, but he's not a fool, either. It's absolutely possible to have happened elsewhere, even if he can't recall it.
In some ways, all of it feels so ridiculous to him, that he could do all these things in another lifetime and change someone so thoroughly, for the better. He's always lived his life under his father's shadow, been forced to study the things Forchenault wants him to excel in, but here, in some ways? There's hope, and Amal doesn't even realize it.]
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As the story unfolds, something in him stirs, a warmth that he's never really recognized before, one that recalls just as the other speaks. As if he remembers being there, with Amal, through all of this. Alphinaud, of course, knows that isn't true of this life, but he's not a fool, either. It's absolutely possible to have happened elsewhere, even if he can't recall it.
In some ways, all of it feels so ridiculous to him, that he could do all these things in another lifetime and change someone so thoroughly, for the better. He's always lived his life under his father's shadow, been forced to study the things Forchenault wants him to excel in, but here, in some ways? There's hope, and Amal doesn't even realize it.]