[For Carol Peletier (& Sophie Rackham)] Strength knows no time or place

[non_foxy_widow]

It's been a busy winter: despite the week or so Emmie spent sleeping in a barn, when the house collapsed, she's managed to avoid coming down with a cold. Maybe a sniffle that lasted a few days, but thankfully (especially in light of her illness, back in her world) nothing major; nothing she'd pass on to Sophie Rackham, whom she's been looking after

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[eight_livesleft]

Carol was on her way to the classroom where she teaches a rag-tag gang of kids, teens and adults the very basics of literacy, with some more advanced than others. Her joy really is the little ones, Daniel particularly, whom she is quickly taking to.

But she's in fact not about to teach, rather going in for extra preparation, when she spots the Edwardian lady.

Like a painting.

She might be staring in the doorway, a bit.

It's surreal.

[non_foxy_widow]

She'll sigh a bit and shake her head, like an aunt shaking her head over the antics of her nieces and nephews, then looks up, realizing she has company. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there sooner," she replies. Then glancing at the book, she adds, "I regret that my attention was rather wrapped up in this silly stuff."

[eight_livesleft]

Carol blinks, is only half-startled.

“... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to stare,” she says. “It's just... I guess I've never seen someone like you before.”

She means someone from your period, Emmie.

[non_foxy_widow]

"It is quite all right: we are all, to borrow St. Paul's phrase, 'strangers and sojourners' in this place, and unusual sights are commonplace," she says, with a . "I am Mrs. Emmeline Fox. And you might be?"