Foxgloves' House

All the wildflowers on the bushes turned towards Amaya as she walked down the path, and the door to the cottage swung open on its own. The kitten meowed and batted at the sunflower in Amaya's hand, although whether or not it approved of the name was anyone's guess. It seemed happy enough, and was likely pleased to no longer be stuffed in a pocket, no matter how unnaturally spacious that pocket was. As she stepped through the cottage door, she'd find herself in a remarkably clean sitting room, complete with a pair of couches that didn't seem to have ever been sat upon and a small coffee table. Foxgloves appeared from the adjoining room, bearing a tray with a teapot, cups, saucers, sugar, and milk.

"Come," he said. "Have a seat. Drink some tea. It's good for you, you know. I do so love tea. They say it soothes the soul. I think that's nonsense, and that it does nothing more than perfume the air and burn the tongue...but I don't need to worry about that. I see that you've taken a liking to that kitten. Perhaps you're reconsidering?"

He put the tea set down on the coffee table and poured two cups full, then filled a small saucer with milk. Amaya would find the chair to be remarkably soft, and would find herself sinking down into its cushions. Foxgloves, meanwhile, didn't seem to sink into his chair at all when he sat down. In fact, the seat cushions barely moved.

"Welcome to my home," he continued. "I rarely get visitors, so it's quite nice to see someone here for once."

Foxgloves scooped several spoonfuls of sugar into his tea, stirring it carefully before lifting it to his mouth. He poured the tea into the mouth of the mask, and Amaya would hear a muffled splash, as though the tea were being poured down a long well. Setting the empty cup down, he reached out to pet the kitten again. The kitten looked up from its milk to swipe at him, and he withdrew his hand.

"Dreams are funny things, aren't they?" asked Foxgloves. "Or at least, so I'm told. I haven't got any of my own. Isn't that strange? I do enjoy hearing about other peoples' dreams, though. The mind is such an inventive thing, coming up with all sorts of adventures all on its own. It's so odd. As for the kitten...well, I'm afraid I could never do such a thing. I have a business to run, after all. What sort of peddler would I be if I gave away kittens for free? He certainly does seem happy with you, though, and it would be such a shame if he had to go back into my pocket. Hmm...I don't think the gold will cover it either."

He thought for a moment, the points of his hood swaying back and forth as he considered. She clearly didn't have enough gold to purchase the little kitten, but gold held little interest for him anyways. The fact that she'd been a paid companion, however, showed some promise.

"How about a secret, then?" he asked. "I do so love secrets. You tell me a secret about yourself or your previous companion, something you wouldn't normally think of uttering, and the kitten is yours. Don't worry, I won't tell, and there's nobody else around to hear you. Make sure it's true, though. There's no fun in a fake secret."

The points of Foxgloves' hood drooped once more as Amaya revealed her "secret". Why didn't anyone listen? He was quite certain that the main problem with people was that they all seemed far more eager to open their mouths than their ears. Hadn't his instructions been clear? Obviously, they had gone straight in one ear and out the other, leaving little more than a faint suggestion behind. At least the kitten seemed happy, lapping at the milk.

"No no," he said. "That won't do at all. I said a secret about you, or your previous companion. Didn't I say that? I'm quite certain I said that. I want a real secret, something good. I'll write it down in my book. It's much easier to write down other people's words than my own, you know. I'm a good copier, but not a very good writer. Words escape me."

He pulled a notebook from his pocket, the cover reading "Strange Travels in a Fantastical Sandpit". Little black words seeped out from between the pages, dripping down and landing on the table. The kitten batted at a small "furthermore", breaking up the neat cursive into illegible squiggles.

Foxgloves' hood perked up once more as she mentioned her ability, and he poured himself another cup of tea. This was certainly an interesting development. How many strange powers did this girl have, he wondered. How many did she have that she was not yet aware of?

"Making the wind blow on a still day," he mused. "Strange ability, that. I met a man in a tavern who claimed that he could do that, just a few months ago. He even showed me. I found it quite underwhelming and rather noxious, especially since he needed to eat a bowl of turnip soup beforehand, but other people thought it was very funny. If your power is of a similar nature, I'd thank you not to demonstrate in my house."

He reached out to pet the kitten once more, but it scurried away and ran to Amaya's arms. Shaking his head, he withdrew his hand and drained his second cup of tea.

"I suppose that will do for a secret, though. You really must find some more for the future. Secrets are delicious, after all. What is a person, except a collection of secrets? In any case, the kitten is yours. I suggest finding some colorful yarn, and perhaps a small felt mouse. Cats like those, or so I'm told."

Foxgloves was entirely unable to smell the wildflowers, but he felt the gentle breeze as it pushed him off to the side of his seat. She was right, this was entirely different from the strange turnip man. Remarkable, really.

"Definitely an interesting ability," he said. "Still, if you're not supposed to play with it, what's the point? Perhaps your father is right, you know. Magic can be dangerous. Of course, lots of people use it all the time and never get hurt, but sometimes people just fall right into the rift they accidentally created and end up in some horrible realm. It's all a gamble, really. I never was one for gambling, myself."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of dice. Giving them a shake, he scattered them across the table, where they all landed on ones.

"Never was particularly good at it," he continued. "But enough about me. Do you enjoy having your powers, Miss Prinn? Have you ever considered that your life might be better off without them?"

"Behind my mask?" repeated Foxgloves. "Well, isn't that just the rudest question. How would you like it if I asked what was underneath your clothes? I'm sure you'd simply blow me away. My goodness, young people these days."

He shook his head, refilling his teacup. He didn't like to answer questions about what was under his mask, as they always reminded him of what he lacked. The harsh reminder always brought pangs of envy, which would leave him upset for days. He didn't have time for that, not while there was so much work to be done.

"I'd imagine your power could get quite troublesome," he said. "Imagine what would happen if you accidentally blew the little kitten away. That would be quite terrible for the both of you. If you want, I could take it off of your hands. Remove any chances of an accident. Save you the stress. In fact, I could even make you and that little kitten even happier for it. After all...what kitten doesn't want friends?"

He reached deep into his pocket once more and produced a second kitten, this time black with white feet and bright blue eyes. The kitten looked up at Amaya, meeting her gaze and meowing softly.

"What do you say?" he asked. "I'll make life a little bit safer for you, take that troublesome power off your hands, and give you a second kitten for the trouble. This one's awfully sweet. Look at its paws."

Foxgloves shrugged. Convincing people to part with their powers was always difficult, no matter how much they complained about them. Even kittens weren't enough, it seemed. Still, it had been worth a shot.

"I figured I'd ask," he said. "And besides, I'm not rude. I'm persistent. There's a difference. Persistence is a virtue in my line of work, you know. That's how I make sales. Anyways, I like secrets. They help me understand people. I understand you a little bit better now, after all."

He tilted his head to the side as he contemplated Amaya and the kittens, looking a bit like a curious pigeon. The kittens both seemed to enjoy the treatment, snuggling and purring against her face.

"You like the kitten, though," said Foxgloves. "But have you anything to buy it with? If not, I'm afraid that it'll be back into the pocket for the little kitty, and I believe you said that you didn't have any secrets left...unless you happen to remember any new ones."

"I suppose that counts," said Foxgloves. "Really, it's a bit more interesting than the other one. Why is it, do you think, that you've never been kissed? Could it be your breath? I must say, you ought not to worry so much. You're not missing out on a whole lot. I tried it once, just for curiosity's sake, and didn't get the whole appeal. People say that mermaids are such good kissers, too. Of course, a mask can't feel very much at all, so maybe I'm not getting the whole experience."

He shrugged, dismissively. In truth, the experience had reminded him that it was just another pleasure he would never be able to partake in, a realization that had upset him quite a bit. He never liked missing out, and it always seemed as though there were so many things to be missed.

"I'm sure you could travel with far more kittens than you give yourself credit for," he said. "I myself have no idea how many kittens I have on my person at any given time. They all live in my pockets, you see. Surely you've got pockets, or at least a basket to carry them in. I can't imagine you'd want to hold them in your hands all day long."

The sunflower seemed to shine even brighter than it had before, despite being indoors. Amaya really would be able to feel a bit of warmth radiating off of it now, despite it looking no different aside from the increased vibrancy. Foxgloves, meanwhile, studied her closely as he refilled her teacup.

"You're not that plain of face," he said. "Take it from me, I'm the plainest of them all. Look at me."

He waved his hand in front of his mask, which really was quite plain indeed. Entirely white, with nothing in the way of decoration aside from a couple of simple lines, it was certainly not the most expressive of faces. However, it was certainly better than no face at all, and helped to alleviate the pangs of envy every time Foxgloves saw someone smile, frown, or grimace.

"You mustn't be so down on yourself," he said. "If people stuck to what was proper, I would lose half of my customers. As for the house...I'm afraid I'm rather attached to it, and it was very hard to find. Like I said before, I'm not in the real estate business. Even if I was, I don't know that you'd have any sort of secret good enough to afford one. The kittens will have to live in your pockets, I'm afraid. It's not that bad, you know. I never have to worry about mice in my coat."