"Yeah, my ankle. It's all better now, see?" She twirls, moving lightly on both feet.

"...I guess you got used to it after however many decades?" ventures Etty uncertainly.

"Breaking bones is nothing new," she agrees.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Etty asks next.

"I hate wearing my dresses, but it's not comfortable being out here naked."

"What's wrong with your dresses?" She has many complaints about her situation, but her white feather dress isn't really one of them.

"He makes me wear them."

Etty looks down at her own outfit. "I haven't even been yelled at yet, and yet if I were to list the sources of my displeasure the fact that I did not choose this dress would not rate highly."

"That's you," says the baron's daughter. "I'm me. We're not the same."

"That is true."

"And you might not care about wearing dresses, but I care that my father beats me when I wear clothes he doesn't like, so I do it whenever I don't think he'll catch me."

"My favorite is 'Nona', but if you don't like it I have second and third choices."

"Nona's pretty. What are the other ones?"

"Verena. Saskia."

"I like Nona best," she decides, and she gives Etty a hug.

Hugs!

Hugs. Cuddly snuggly warm lovey hugs.

"That odd feeling is back. Well, it didn't leave, but it's changed," observes Etty. "I think it has something to do with you."

"Maybe it's the spell, telling you I love you."

"- Do you?"

"I've never done it before, how should I know? But I like you plenty," she says, snuggling her some more.

"I don't know. But I think he would've come roaring back here already if he knew."