ROLAND :

      “ Do the woods require much tidying? ” Rose inquires, a sly smile upon garnet kissed lips, but her jest falls short as he speaks of traveling, of wandering, which does strike smartly upon a thorn within her many pierced heart. After all, how far has the fair Rose traveled, and yet seen nothing of the world? It appeared her life would be a life of towers, left flitting from one prison to another. “ You must have seen many great and wonderful things, Friend Roland, to have learned such fine mopping skills. ” And the compliment is true in it’s intent, filled with genuine admiration, even if she must swallow harshly the pill of envy so her heart will give naught away.

“ Still you give me far too much credit, I have no such blood, merely a gift of circumstance. And that tis not the same thing. . . is it ? ” The more she speaks with him the more she doubts herself, which is most vexing as she had always found herself perfectly normal before she began to spend time with the not faery gentleman who, it would appear, could find any number of reasons to come to her door. At least with his help the work is faster, and more pleasant for sake of conversation. “ But I do wish the goodly faeries would have told me more, seems a great pity to have a gift one knows not the use of. . . ”

“ In truth, ” the fair Rose confesses, amaranthine eyes suddenly drawn to the hand worn floor, brush scrapping idly upon it’s fine grooves, “ I have had the wand for many years now, but I had never attempted to unlock it’s secrets before. ” Shyly does she sit back, fingers placed ever so delicately in her lap as she spies the man at his mopping through carefully lowered lashes. “ Your influence I’m afraid, I had not thought of using such a thing until the fated storm which led us to meeting. But I see it shall not be so easy to understand this world in which I now find myself. ”