The person exchanges a few words with Satenag, and then holds a hand to their chest and turns to address Cynthia.

"Penþa," they introduce themself.

Then they say a sentence in yet a third language that is probably questioning whether she can speak it.

Cynthia sighs before replying, mildly annoyed and apathic.

Penþa and Satenag exchange looks.

Penþa sits down on the bed, for lack of other furniture, and asks Cynthia a question in two parts. She gets the sense that they're offering her an alternative between something to do with language, and something to do with resting.

...she has an answer. (Could she please know the things they're actually saying? she thinks to herself.)

The gift stirs in its sleep. She's full; it can't help her unless she lets go of an ability or otherwise opens up space.

Penþa and Satenag stand, and go to talk on the porch in low voices.

Things are quiet, except for the crackle of the fire and the gentle patter of rain on the lake.

What do you mean you're full, Cynthia asks in annoyance? Help me get some way to get tons of nuclear energy! she thinks at the thing that is "full".

The gift wakes up properly.

Does she want to stop being able to easily accept the current situation, stop being able to intuit the thought-shaping powers that the gift can provide her, stop being able to guess what people mean, or stop being able to guess how to phrase things? Or to merge one of the two pairs of abilities, to clear up space?

Well... the situation seems fine enough? Cynthia doesn't need that, not now.

Her rejection sets one of the sparks loose and drifting, until it vanishes in some direction that isn't quite 'under' and isn't quite 'out'.

Does she want to have an intuition for working with nuclear physics?

Yes, that's what I asked for she thinks.

There's a sense that 'asking' and 'giving' are the same thing.

Nonetheless, she gains a kind of wordless intuition for how the energy levels of a nucleus relate to its structure and contents. Before, she knew that Uranium made electricity, somehow. Now, it seems obvious that it must do so by decaying into a more stable form and releasing heat and alpha particles in the process. And she could probably extract it from a mixture of similar atoms with a centrifuge, actually, since it has a different weight ...

Bootstrapping she thinks to herself.

There's a sense of confusion. The gift wants to help her, and it doesn't know how. Does she want to be good at holding complicated flowcharts in her head? Does she want to emit neutrons? Because she's full again and it can't give her either of those without space.

Emit neutrons! Cynthia is utterly shocked. She needs to know the situation more, ask these people who they are, where they are, how things are. She's not in a position to use any nuclear-related power.

There's a sense that the gift is thinking hard, and struggling to come up with anything. Does she want ... the ability to tell how far it is to the north pole?

It isn't as clever as she is; it needs her to need something specific.

Cynthia just ignores the power and waits for the two people to come back, so she can ask them questions and learn where she is and how things are.

It falls back into sleep.

Penþa and Satenag don't seem to be in any particular rush.

The boy, however, eventually gives up on being quiet. He sets aside his mug and asks her a question about her hair.

Cynthia runs her hands through it. "I found a barber I like and she taught me to have my hair be pretty like this! She's so nice."

Daskal cocks his head to the side.

He gets up and collects a few small items — a carven bear, a blanket, a jug — and arranges them in rough hue order.

He asks a question about the color of her hair.

"Ohh, I had to have it dyed to look like his. But it'll stay this color."

Daskal thinks about this for a moment, and then runs out onto the porch and asks Satenag something about dying his hair.

Satenag's reply is too quiet to hear, but she pokes her head back in and says something about keeping Daskal busy and Cynthia resting.