andhiswife | (Reply)

"I don't know," she says, the post-fit hoarseness making her sound even more wretched than she feels. "With the way Darrow works, she might have arrived here years before I did." Long enough to assimilate, to some degree -- dress in normal clothes, find a less alarming shade for her hair. Long enough to find a job that doesn't even involve magic, because she hadn't had much at the end, had she? A Witch with real power wouldn't have done so much negotiating with a rampaging Giant.

"It would be rather fitting, her tormenting bakers for a living," she mutters as Thomas shepherds her back over to the couch. "Right up her alley." The Witch would appreciate the irony.

She sits down, and finally gives Thomas -- poor, worried Thomas -- her full attention, shaking her head at his question. "I'm fine, dearest. Sorry, that was... I didn't mean to be so, er, dramatic." She picks up her still-warm tea and takes a sip, soothing her throat and steadying her hands. "I just... never thought I'd see that face again." And she hadn't minded the idea. She could have gone the rest of her unanticipated after-life not seeing the Witch, and been perfectly happy about it.