The child’s mouth dropped open.  He knew?  Her heart sank.  She really was terrible at keeping secrets, though the way he explained it made it seem so obvious..  Yet perhaps it was not the disaster she feared.  “...It doesn’t bother you?  That I can tell things like that?”  Amuné wasn’t sure how she felt about him watching her, but that was a secondary concern at the moment.  And for all that he’d figured out, there were pieces of the picture he had incorrect.  “You’re wrong about some things,” she told him, sighing heavily.  “I can’t always tell when people are lying.  It would be easier if I could.”

She picked up the half-mask Cain had fashioned for her and ran her fingers over the smooth metal.  “A lot of people mix it up -- I sense feelings far more than thoughts.”  The girl’s voice dropped to hardly more than a whisper.  “That’s part of why they don’t like me.  They can’t be sure I’m not seeing through the smiles and the lies.”  Her brow furrowed as she considered.  “I avoid crowds because they hurt, but most of the students...I avoid them because they don’t like me,” she continued, a bit more steadily.  “There’s a few I spend time with.  The same with the servants and the teachers.  ...I actually get along better with many of the humans than I do with the shifters.  It’s just more magic to those that don’t have any, instead of something strange and frightening.”  The thought of the lady that oversaw her group made Amuné wrinkle her nose.  “Ms. Primm doesn’t like /anyone/ -- and she really dislikes me because I have no real rank and she doesn’t think I should be here.  It’s not about their mood, always.  It’s about who they are.  Jillian’s always nervous, or gloomy, but I like her.”

She tilted her head at Cain.  “With you...I don’t know.  I think it’s because you’re different.  At the ball, when you showed up, you seemed just as out of place as I feel.  They looked at you the way they look at me.”  Her fingers found the engraved flower and traced it lightly.  “I don’t know why you’d say you’re a monster.  Is it because people always call you one?”  They called her a freak, and sometimes she felt like they were right.  “That doesn’t mean you are.”  Amuné put the mask up to her face and looked at him from behind it, her grey eyes solemn.  “/I/ don’t think you are.  You can be scary, but...you’re also kind.  Monsters don’t care.”

[@TheMinorFall]