Re: Wren + Ana: woods
Most of the carnival-goers were from outside Repose. The Capital, students from the university there, little hipsters that saw buzz on the internet, older people that wanted to relive another time. Their patrons were people who wanted to see one of the last remaining big tops in the country. Coming to see them was an event and, thanks to Eddie's animatronics, it was an event that was whispered about and repeated. It was mystery and wonder, and like those roadside attractions that promised a glimpse of something magical for the price of a cheeseburger, it was always crowded.
"I don't think any sounds interrupt things here," she said simply, and the woods here had a strange life of their own. They weren't like other places she'd encountered on her trip across the country. Here, things lived.
The question about speaking French was oddity, and the little bird's ear nearly touched her shoulder, the curious tilt of her head avian, and her eyes smarter than she realized herself that they were. "The carnival doesn't have anything to do with what I speak, oui?" Of course, she couldn't explain how she knew French. And, strangely, she wasn't inclined to spin a falsehood for this woman in the woods. "I've only been there a year," she added of the carnival.
She watched as the woman's hand fluttered toward the kiln, and then she returned her attention to the dark face before her. "I'm not very good at making things. I'm sure the things you make are beautiful." For Wren, that wasn't just a compliment issued with meaningless breath. Creation was beautiful.