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[colur]

[ Eilonwy has her arms crossed. Her skin is quite red with sun, redder than her redgold hair. Thanks, mission. ]

Well, this is a curious device, isn't it! It's rather like an enchanted pool of water, or how I imagine it would be, without the water. So not very like a pool of water at all.

[ She waves. ]

I've been terribly rude, not introducing myself until now! I am called Eilonwy.

What I wonder though, is why we were all sent to spend afternoons collecting rocks. Surely if they wanted to clean up the beach, that was a silly way to go about it. It's bound to be dirty again, by now. Why, it's like making your bed right before you go to sleep in it.

If this world is in danger, and all of ours along with it, I would fight, not— not gather pebbles by the seashore turning half my skin red as a tomato. [ She really soured on the idea after she burned half her skin off. ] It doesn't seem like a clever way to go about this at all!

Comments

[allucinator]

I . . . don't know. Maybe. It's good, anyway, it works, so.

[Jack himself is rather tan, but not sunburned.]

[colur]

I suppose that's the most important thing.

It's good to know there are some helpful things and helpful people in this place.

[allucinator]

A little more'n some. If you're so eager to jump inna fight, why not ask the people in charge for a mission?

[colur]

Well, why should I trust them to do it right? They'd probably send me to sail a boat, though I have never been a sailor, or to steal jewels, though I've never been a thief!

[allucinator]

You've been here for three minutes, Miss. Have a little faith, why don't you.

[colur]

I have been here quite longer than three minutes. [ And faith that no one will do anything right is a kind of faith. ]

[allucinator]

One month. I mean, it's not like you got much choice, but.

[colur]

It has been near a season, I would say, though it's difficult to tell sometimes since it rains all the time.

[allucinator]

A se-- sorry, how long is a season?

[colur]

Why, how long do you think spring is? A hundred days? Seven weeks? It depends on the comings and goings of the frost, and the harvest. Though nothing grows here, or so they tell me.