Re: Eddie's House: May / Eddie
She actually laughed at the talk of magic tricks - quiet and a little gravelly. And she sunk her toes farther down into the dirt - like she was sending down roots into the soil outside Eddie's home. Her sort of magic was different, not the slight-of-hand of Eddie's tricks, but a thing more tied into the quieter parts of the world. But she held the old memories of her life. Remembered the days before television, before radio, when entertainers were the people that wandered overland and stopped in your town to exchange nights of hospitality for performances of their talents. Musicians, storytellers... a puppeteer. She'd still been living with her mother, still so young. The puppets had been unlike anything she'd seen before, his voice an unfamiliar lilt from weeks' journey away... She smiled again and pulled her thoughts back from gathering wool like an old granny.
Expression thoughtful with those last wisps of memory, she took another drink of her cooling tea and nodded. That was part of the thing about obsessions - the ones that didn't destroy a person gave them life instead. At least she seemed to be able to get him to understand about the earth - she couldn't imagine the same feeling coming from being onstage.
If she didn't believe him, she wouldn't have even offered him what she already had. If there hadn't have been some inkling of it from her first interactions with him, she wouldn't have offered a transplant of one of her own flowers. Nor offered to help him plant it. And so, with thoughts of puppeteers and dirt and air so clean it made a person's head spin, she nodded. "It's very far away. A little village. Smaller than Repose by far. Surrounded by farms and field an' fores'." With her thoughts, she let her voice change - America slipped away along with centuries. And it took a little more focus to follow her words, especially since they slipped faster and natural. "If'n ye didn' know yer way, th' woods they'd swolla' ye 'thout a trace..."