A couple more lost girls
The girl with the pigtails looks like she’s a long way from home. Her homespun charm is unusual here, the guileless certainty in her actions out of place among the weary and confused. She talks fondly of her home, her childhood on the farm, the family she writes her weekly letters to. She gets homesick, she says, but after the twister and her unexpected adventure she could never stay at home. There was too much out there for her to see. The Gentry treat her with an understanding few students ever achieve; something about her history with witches, perhaps. Maybe something enchanted in those red shoes.
The girl with the pocket watch says she’s from England, and her accent reflects it when she has occasion to speak. Mostly, though, she observes, thoughtfully and from afar. She is unsurprised when someone finally warns her about the Gentry, and after that day is never seen without the appropriate charms and protections. She never looks worried though. If anyone asks her, as they sometimes do, why she seems so comfortable here, she tells them it is still one of the more sensible places she’s been. She bites her tongue and sips her tea to cut herself off from accidentally wishing her conversation partner a merry unbirthday.
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