Instead of answering directly, her guest asked her a question. Knowing it would likely lead up to advice, or some point, Iona followed the woman’s lead. For a moment she considered the difference between curses and blessings, hoping to find common ground. Curses were meant to harm, typically, while blessings were meant to help. Both were very powerful magic and have been known to break even natural laws to ensure its success. Yet, Iona felt none of those were what her guest was wanting to hear. There must be something deeper that she wasn’t aware of. When her time seemed to be up, her guest spoke and revealed the answer. Iona blinked curiously. Contracts was one thing she never would have guessed. She leaned forward slightly like a child prepared to listen intently to a long story.

The woman explained the contract that makes up a blessing and a curse. It was all entirely new information to her, despite the fact she was a witch who was capable of casting curses of her own. But, she’d never done it. It was interesting to learn about curses, and she was relieved to hear that there might be a loophole to hers. Her eyes gleamed with the first flicker of hope she had in many lifetimes. Long ago she’d given up on hoping things would change. She believed she should face the facts, and realize that she would never be free. But, perhaps if she hadn’t become so fearful of being close to others, she could have sought out an expert and had the curse broken long ago. Couldn’t she have?

When her guest admitted who she believed was truly at fault for what happened, Iona was slightly surprised. Not to hear that she was to blame; she already knew it to be true. But that she also blamed her friend and her lover. She’d always thought that it was her own actions that set everything in motion. She’d known how her friend became insecure around her, it’s why she stayed when they were allowed to attend the royal party. And when she’d met the man courting her, she should’ve turned a cold shoulder. She’d seen what was coming by the way he looked at her; she knew it wouldn’t end well. If she had avoided him and told her friend what kind of guy he really was, all of it could’ve been avoided. But, she supposed that was unfair to think. It was like blaming herself for being raped because she walked down the wrong street. She was no more at fault than her lover because he chose to be unfaithful. And her friend… As much as it pained her to admit, her friend could have handled it better herself.

Iona stared down at her tea and slumped back in her seat, looking defeated. As if the truth had winded her. When she was done voicing her opinions, the sound of her going through her belongings made Iona lift her gaze with interest. Her guest wrote down three words. Iona quirked a pale brow. And the moment she realized it was another explanation about curses—grudge-based, apparently, she set her tea aside and scooted forward in her chair so she could see better. Her eyes were large and bright, silent excitement for learning about magic.

She watched as all the arrows were drawn, listening intently to how things had truly happened. It was like a whole new door was opened to her, for she’d always viewed the situation through more simple eyes. She’d betrayed her friend, and she sought revenge…it was as simple as that. Or so she thought. Once again, it was a reminder of just how little she knew. Finally, when she asked if she was right, Iona took a minute to consider it. Something seemed to be out of place, though. Yet, she couldn’t tell what. The curse echoed in her mind. “‘I curse you. Deceitful demon, venomous viper who speaks nothing but lies, I curse you. Suffer until your dying day, suffer in all lives beyond. Lose all that you love most, and you shall know my pain. Conniving little Witch, I curse you for all eternity…” She lifted her gaze to meet her guest’s. “I don’t recall her saying those words, but they repeat themselves over and over in my head. Could it be important concerning your theory?”

Shiloh clasped her hands and rested her chin on them, bringing her knees to her chest. It was a very precarious sitting position, but her normally flat expression was in a frown. She repeated the words in her mind, trying to make sense of them. "If you remember them so clearly, then they're definitely important. I guess there's only so much we can get from memory." The words themselves were pretty self-explanatory, but what bothered her the most was how they were used. There was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, but she couldn't tell what it was. "I've heard a lot of horrible things in my life, but for some reason something about the way it sounds makes me uneasy. It's not the words themselves–it's…the format." Yes, that was the word she was looking for. As she put her feet back on the floor, she began to pull at the quill in her hands. "By the way if you don't mind me asking, what kind of person was your friend? If you were to describe her to a complete stranger, what would you say?" She only realized the irony of that sentence after it left her mouth. But this was important. She had a good feel for her host's personality, but she didn't know anything about that friend who eventually cursed her. "And after she cursed you…what happened to her?"

Iona tilted her head. So she wasn’t the only one who thought it might be important. Yet, even the stranger couldn’t seem to pinpoint what was out of place. She moved about as she thought, until she asked a couple more questions. Iona leaned back in her seat again, her eyes turning towards the window. By now she could barely see the lakeside. The wind was howling, stirring the snow around and clouding her vision of the land outside. She stared off in the distance, as if she could see something. And in a way, she could. She saw the friend that she once laughed with, stayed up late with all those nights when they couldn’t sleep or they just weren’t ready to separate ways yet. “We were inseparable,” she replied with a ghostly smile. Absentmindedly, her hand reached out to place her fingertips on the cover of the book beside her. The night they bought that book was one of her favorite memories. O’ the good times they had.

Taking a deep breath, she withdrew her hand. “When we had first met, she was bubbly, always wore a smile. I was a rather shy sort, so she would often take the lead. She’d drag me around, making conversation until she’d managed to open me up. Around others, especially those above us, as we were merely servant girls, she was respectful, yet not afraid to speak her mind. She made friends easily,” her smile faded, and her brow furrowed. Her friend had seemed like the perfect girl. She behaved when she was meant to, and misbehaved when she could get away with it.

But, that night she cursed her… Iona shook her head. “I heard those words in my head, and I began to feel a pain in my stomach as…” her hand was lightly placed on her slim belly, “As the life of my child was taken. The pain crippled me. I couldn’t even watch as she walked away. I know not where she’d gone, nor what’s become of her. That was the last I saw of her.”

As her host talked, Shiloh noticed the distant look in her eyes and the subconscious move of her hand to the book that she had been reading before the visit. She had a feeling that the book had some sort of sentimental value or significance based on that reaction. The summary of the lady's former friend didn't provide very much to work with. But with her host's personal comments about her side of the friendship, she could at least try to make a few guesses. The friend seemed like the type who would approach her first and take the initiative. Both of them were in the same profession and weren't considered highly by others, but Shiloh suspected when it came to the social dynamic between the two–the pale lady would be 'lower' due to her soft-spoken nature. Part of the rogue wondered if the friend's ability to make friends easily was out of genuine altruism or an attempt at establishing ties. Servants didn't have much say when it came to the upper classes, so gaining allies and connections could be a way to compensate. In a class-based society, there was always a desire to rise above one's current rank, especially if you were at the bottom. 

People who knew how to present themselves were more successful and weren't taken advantage of. Those who did not fit the image society expected from them would face a strong disadvantage. She knew that better than anyone. After all, if people don't like you…you'll be a convenient target when someone needs to take responsibility. Apparently that sweet, friendly facade had fallen apart by the time that friend's resentment boiled over. Her host recalled the painful memory of having a miscarriage on the night she was cursed, but Shiloh chose to take that with a grain of salt. Though fortunately she never had to experience it herself, from what she'd read from medical books a miscarriage could be easily caused by a number of things. Part of it had to do with the mother's physical condition, and sudden shock or disturbance to the lower body could cause the muscles to contract. Since she had just witnessed the brutal murder of her lover moments before, there was a very high possibility that this could have caused her to lose her child. But Shiloh kept those thoughts to herself. It wouldn't to any good to bring this up unless she had hard evidence. 

"I see. Well, I can't say much about that. The chain of events did happen naturally the way I see it." It was then that she finally noticed the howling winds outside, and saw snow drifts blow in. The wind had picked up and a blizzard was blowing. "Unfortunately for me, it looks like I'll have to impose on you again. With the weather outside, it seems I'll need to stay the night until it all blows over." She could always tell her staff she had a delay. Deity or not, she didn't like the idea of traveling through a snowstorm. On the upside, this would give her more time to think about the information she'd learned. Downing the cold tea in one shot, she realized she hadn't introduced herself. "Oh right…I completely forgot. You can call me Salem. That's what a lot of folks up in Baltil call me." 

Iona couldn’t say if her guest was right. She did not know if the loss of her child was the doing of the curse or not. But the timing had been enough to add to her fear, and she had not managed to bear a child since. That included every one of her lives up to now. She’s had lovers, and she’s lost her innocence unwillingly. Still, never a child.

Smiling softly she looked to her guest with a small sense of relief to have the subject change. “You are welcome to stay as long as you wish,” she replied. Her guest knew more about herself than she knew about her guest. And the paranoia side of her warned that she might be opening herself up to danger, as she’d been betrayed by friends in the past. Yet, she’d never felt so certain about someone’s sincerity before, not as she did with this woman. If she’d wished to harm Iona, she likely already would have. There was the chance that she could be attacked in her sleep, but her guest didn’t have that type of “vibe”.

Or perhaps she was making excuses to trust her because she was tired of being afraid. But she refused to ignore her intuition. Rising from her seat, she took the empty cup from her guest, “I am Iona, and I thank you for helping to open my eyes, and for giving me a little hope.” She took the cup into the kitchen and set it down next to the kettle. “If you wish, I can make a place for you to sleep by the fire. Otherwise I can share my bedroom with you, since there is only one bedroom.” It had been ages ago since her last sleepover. “There is a bathing room down the hall next to the staircase if you wish to wash up. There is another upstairs as well.” She looked at Salem, “More tea?” She offered.

Hope…that was a funny thing to hear for a self-proclaimed pessimist. But she supposed that was how it came across to a person who had been in a rut of self-loathing and self-blame. To the lady's offer, she politely declined. "This chair is fine. It's hard for me to fall asleep. I have chronic insomnia, it's like my mind refuses to shut off unless I knock myself out or I go unconscious from exhaustion." She rubbed her face and eyes. This wasn't a surprise, but it did explain the dark circles and generally tired look. "Do you have any lavender or chamomile? That sometimes helps." The key word being 'sometimes', and that was a lot less than she liked. Come to think of it, when was the last time she had slept again? Without Cymbel, it was difficult to get a good night's sleep. But she couldn't rely on his magic forever, she had to find ways to handle herself outside of her workplace.

The warmth of the fire was soothing, and she felt more comfortable being in a position to know if there was danger. It was similar to the habits of cats who preferred to sit on a high perch for its greater vantage point. It gave a sense of security. Her eyes went over to the book the lady had subconsciously touched earlier and that gave her an idea. "…That book, what is it about?" Asking the owner to explain would be less jarring than if Shiloh mentioned how she noticed she had been reading it earlier. The rogue had a distinct feeling that the book was important, maybe even related to her host's past. If she was wrong, then at least it might give her more insight into what sort of relationship she had with the two other people in her first life. Continually pressing for information would cause fatigue and suspicion, both of which would be counterproductive towards her intended result. Her plan was to gradually let the woman open up and recall details naturally, forcing it would cause a greater disruption and possibly muddle facts.

It was the slow and strategic method of casual conversation; a thing she had learned through her painstaking adaptation to common 'human' social norms. Sometimes in order to find information, you needed to come in by a side alley than the main street. Also, allowing someone to talk about things on their own was easier than asking questions one by one.