“Really? We have flowers in those colors, though. We have green leaves. And blue, and violet. Flowers too. All colors.”

Cara pursed her lips, trying to figure out how to explain it best.

“Yes, but ours are…brighter.”

“Like the colors of your clothing? Is that why they’re so beautiful and…vivid?”

Cara looked down at her clothing. She nodded.

“Exactly. It’s not exactly this bright, but it’s a lot…”

She waved a fork at the window and realized they were all shuttered.

And locked on the inside with sturdy metal bars. Cara blinked. No one believed in fresh air in Landsmecht? Well, fine by her. Violetta got what she meant, though, and sighed.

“Does everyone wear clothing as bright as yours? Is it expensive? I heard that…”

Again, her father interrupted her.

“Violetta. Don’t bother our guest.”

The girl lapsed into reluctant silence. Cara hesitated. She was torn between not wanting to tell an obvious lie about a place she’d never been and wanting to indulge Violetta’s curiosity. But maybe this was being rude? Idelt was stacking dishes to be washed; they didn’t have a sink, which threw Cara until she realized plumbing didn’t exist. Still—it was a strange omission for her sensibilities.

Violetta went to help her father, refusing to let Cara rise, so the [Actress] just sat, entering into a food coma of sorts after proper food after so long. She watched, dozily, as Idelt washed the dishes with his daughter—they had soap—and then started a fire and took a seat by the fireplace as the room warmed.

He sat in a large armchair after the meal was done, absently working on something. Some curved bit of wood. Cara saw him taking exquisite care with a carving knife and the shaped wood. The fireplace’s light was the only source of illumination in the room save for two candles, but Violetta, her father, and Cara now were all used to the darkness.

“I…I’m sorry, Miss Cara, but can I ask one or two more questions? Please?”

Violetta sat close to Cara and cast a pleading glance at her father, despite the warning look. Cara smiled and interjected some joviality in her voice

“No, not at all. I don’t mind, truly. Ask away!”

Violetta glanced at her father, and the [Blacksmith] nodded. She scooted closer, and that’s when it hit Cara.

They were so reserved. Violetta sat well out of even the range of her feet with Cara; closer meant if she really stretched and left her chair, she’d tickle Cara with the tip of her feet. Similarly, Idelt hadn’t smiled or really shown facial expressions all throughout the meal.

And, despite Violetta being a number of years younger than Cara, maybe only sixteen? She wasn’t as close or pressing as kids could be when they were annoying.