There was warmth here, there was genuine good here, a real chance at a fresh start. There was so much yet to be unsure of, but at least for a little while, there was promise. There would be difficulties, to be certain. The most average did have down times after all. Most importantly, at least in her mind, there was understanding...of the mutual kind.
“Io should not trust Miss Gloria, but does. Miss Gloria is kind if she wants it or not, so Io trusts. Io has no answers for anyone Miss Gloria does not trust. And if it pleases Miss Gloria, Io will be Marion outside. Marion...” She paced a bit, seemingly lost in thought. It had been a while since she had a second name, and her own did not come to her very often. Of course, even if she did remember, at the moment it was probably wise to avoid that one as well.
“Marion Nisem. That is who I will be. Marion Nisem who has seen 17 winters, and serves as Miss Gloria’s scribe. Though, I fear I may need more training with letters. Io...euhh, Marion’s letters are not so neat.” It was the best she could come up with at the moment, the best part that she could convincingly play, considering her appearance and talents. “I came about your service in Wrexham, euhh...this winter past, but could not make the journey for a fever. Yes. Marion Nisem.” She nodded twice, matter of factly, in an attempt to convince herself of this new truth.
Was she worried? Sure. She had difficulties with deception of words, and she’d only known one identity. She hadn’t spent much time outdoors, not during the day amongst waking crowds. But, it was still safer than the alternative. Besides, not all of the tale was false. She did travel from Derry, this winter past. So far, as well, she was Marion on the streets. Of course, the brand on her neck gave away most of the truth to the trained eye, but Io did look like ten since the letters were of the same size after all, and as far as the other name...Pratt...well, for that she had nothing.
Since she was to wait, she decided to wait in the most comfortable manner possible, and had already a chosen location. Kittenishly, she curled under the supper table, and yawned a wide yawn. It’d felt an eternity since she’d rested on anything but earth, and hard as they were, the floorboards were at least dry, and dry went a long way in her book. Besides, worn as it was, the floor, and especially under the supper table, seemed to hold the bulk of the homey smell she’d found so pleasing, perhaps because all things came to settle there. So, she did the same, since she was to wait anyway.