I scream beneath the water, and make no noise
Sometimes, no, oftentimes, Ilma has found that expecting nothing is the best way to go about meeting basically anyone. She sees possible outcomes, yes; futures in which for example, Reave had ignored her, said hello normally - including a name exchange - and some in which he had been a little chagrined, too. But her timing had given her the bored-philosopher-version, and to say that she was surprised by his attempt to have anything but a normal, boring conversation is received equally well as when he had simply greeted her.
When he says her earnings are wasted, she cannot claim surprise either, but it incites a small laugh. ”I still feel better for doing so, as unnecessary as it may be,” she explains and then chuckles, realising that a lot of her teachings and warnings would be for her own benefit - sleeping better at night - than for the receiving party.
His next probe dims the laughter in her throat though not the sparkle in her eyes. Bemused, she looks at him. ”I’m sure everybody thinks about it sometimes. But as our meeting and your asking became more likely, I did get time to think on it a little longer than most, yes.” She looks from him to the river, then follows it to upstream, musing over what the future holds and finding the body of water quite the representative for the flow of time; just like she sees a leaf float upstream, and can predict it coming by a certain point downstream - still irregular enough not to know where exactly it will pass, only that it will.
”I guess you knew that, too. Yet you still ask, for if you don’t, you wouldn’t get nor know my answer.” She tilts her head af him and looks the bone-clad chestnut in the eye. It’s not often one meets a similar mind; even though his is vastly different from hers in so many other ways.
wherever you go… bring me home?
@Reave