The Witching Hour

[stillatentdead]

Characters: Granny Weatherwax and whoever she runs into
Content: Traverse gains a witch
Location (including world): First District, Traverse Town
Time of Day: Afternoon (such as it is)
Warnings: None

[Granny was no stranger to dreams.  Anyone had ‘em, from the entirely mundane and embarrassing sort of dreams* to the sorts of dreams that set people on a path and kept ‘em following it.  Those were the dangerous ones, if you didn’t keep an eye out for the warning signs.  The mad could dream, and the dangerously sane too.  She was not, however, particularly familiar with dreams like this one**, and couldn’t be having with this sort of thing anyway.  Dreams were all well and good, but there was no call to have animals with puffballs stuck to their heads and bat wings.  It was against the natural order of things.  Even the idea of creating something out of bits and pieces of things was something she couldn’t really be having with.

Accordingly it took some time before she finally admitted that maybe she could put up with another hanger-on she’d never wanted, ridiculously colored though the things seemed to be.  Dream though it was there was a difference between accepting that fact and bending to the ludicrous rules of this dream.  Besides, she was perfectly capable of defending herself.  She’d simply decided she might as well see what all the fuss had been about.  It certainly wasn’t anything to do with curiosity and anyone who thought otherwise didn’t have the slightest idea what they were talking about.

It wasn’t like she needed a lizard anyway, even if it was traveling with her. Thus, she payed it no real mind as she set about seeing what she could make of the town. It might have been no dream she knew, but that was absolutely no call to not assume there was a perfectly good reason for her being there. It was just a matter of figuring out what it was.


* Which she quite adamantly did not have, thank you very much.
** Not that she would have admitted to such.  Her pride would never have allowed it.]

Comments

[defrostedpride]

"Ye-es, I see - why are we talking about the reasons behind your haberdashery choices?" Even said, genuinely bewildered. He was trying to get his Pricklemane to stop gamboling around strangers' feet and get back to work, not end up in bizarre discussions with uncommunicative strangers, and he wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten from one to the other.

His glare increased marginally. It seemed that she was Wasting His Time.

[stillatentdead]

To Granny, the jump in topics was all but crystal clear. It should have come as no surprise, then, the fact that her conversational gambit did not yield the expected result was met with no small amount of irritation and, more noticeably, a marked increase in the intensity of her stare.

"Means I'm a witch," Granny answered, in the sort of tones that said she considered this to be a point she shouldn't have needed to explain.

[defrostedpride]

The stare was somewhat disrupted as Even was too confused to register it fully. Quickly enough, however, he recovered himself. His eyes dropped minutely, not enough to cease glaring, but a sign of discomfiture.

"Well, I'm sure that's - actually, I am sure it's very nice for you. Are you a going-to-try-putting-us-into-comas witch, in which case I think you may be a little late, or some other kind?"

[stillatentdead]

As far as Granny was concerned, the fact that he was beginning to show discomfort was good. Not enough perhaps, but enough that she would take the progress for what it was.

Not that she was going to at all decrease the intensity of glare. That would be given in and if there was one thing a Weatherwax didn't hold with it was the idea of giving in. She wasn't much inclined to answer Even's question either. Whether she was or wasn't the sort of witch to put people into comas* was a question she'd leave to him. Instead, she let her glare care a simple message: was the question one he really wanted the answer to?


*She wasn't, but not precisely by choice.

[defrostedpride]

When it came to Even and questions a reasonable person might not want the answer to, his response was extremely reliable. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized her for tell-tale signs, such as ravens, magic mirrors, or people's organs in a basket.

"That was a question," he pointed out, in case she was somehow unaware.

[stillatentdead]

Given Granny's general distrust of not only mirrors but also reflective surfaces, Even would find nothing that could even be remotely considered a magic mirror. Similarly, there was nothing that could be considered to be an animal following her, with the exception of her Hebby Rep. As to the question of organs, a simple glance was all it would be likely to take to scrap that idea.

Either way, she was not amused in the last about Even's comment. She knew what it had been. She'd simply opted to not address it, or at least, not until Even had all but forced her hand. "I knows what a question is."

[defrostedpride]

Under the external pressure of the Stare (and, Even being Even, internal pressure as well), Even's calm, such as it was, finally cracked. "Then do you suppose that you just might, possibly, manage to, oh, answer it?!"

Or volunteer any information, or ask questions of her own. He really wasn't picky.

[stillatentdead]

"I might," Granny admitted, after a further moment of silence. "If I sees a reason to."

Unfortunately for the state of Even's temper, a single person being sharp with her was unlikely to be enough of a reason to answer the question. It didn't matter that it was of particular importance by his estimation of things. She was who she was, and if he couldn't see his way through to the proper understanding of things, it wasn't her fault.

She didn't see much point in asking questions either, so Even was sadly out of luck on that point as well. No sense asking if she'd just as likely find out herself, given time.