Truth be told, Elizabeth had considered the reasons why anyone might be interested in bringing someone like her to Marrowood. The fact that she was granted limited use of her tears once again (with half of her pinky missing once again as further proof of its return) made her wonder what sort of power could have existed in the universe that could have made it possible. Not that she wasn’t grateful to once again feel more like herself, it still made her uneasy.
But she couldn’t very well sit there and explain to a perfect stranger that she was a girl who’d been gifted with the ability to manipulate space and time. It would just lead to more confusion, to more long drawn out explanations that she wasn’t equipped to answer quite yet. It wasn’t even like she could properly ‘prove’ these abilities right then and there anyway-- the tears seemed to come and go so sporadically in Marrowood that it wasn’t worth the risk.
In the end, all Elizabeth could do was shrug lightly and shake her head.
“Who knows?” she said. “At this rate, I’m doubting the existence of any explicit reasons for bringing us here. If there is a point to all of it, then it’s a very cleverly disguised one.”
Elizabeth brought a hand up to rub at the side of her face, and let out a soft barely audible sigh while she did. She leaned back in her chair and turned her attention back to Hermione’s face. She wore an expression of weariness, as if the conversation they were having was wearing her down.
“I have a feeling this is more like a sick game than it is a carefully planned out strategy,” she said.