As Mia walked ahead into a separate room, Arine looked around at the new surroundings, not sure what to make of it. The spicy smell she noticed when the door was opened came from several sticks of aromatic incense burning throughout the house. There was no carpeting, except for a single Persian rug lying before a fireplace with a small cauldron in it. Next to the hearth were a mandolin and an Irish bagpipe, both resting on the floor and both looked like they'd been used recently. Strange and exotic-looking herbs and plants hung from the walls, and the whole room seemed to exude an almost other worldliness. She turned around to see a broom resting on nails above the doorframe, and was only slightly surprised to feel a cat rub up against her calf. "Well," she muttered to herself, "This certainly looks like the kind of place a fantasy writer would live." A set of footsteps behind her alerted her to the presence of her host. She turned to see Mia walking past her toward the door carrying something in a cup. She dumped the crystalline white contents on the front porch, and shut the door. She then turned to Arine with a cheerful smile. "Would you like some tea Miss Lloyd?" the brunet asked in her adorable Irish accent. Arine nodded. As the author turned to go back the way she came, Arine's curiosity got the better of her. "Um... Mia?" she asked. The writer turned to her, "Exactly what was..." "Oh, that?" the chestnut-brown haired woman said with a chuckle, "It's salt. It's for keeping away the banshees." Arine raised an eyebrow, "What?" she asked, thinking she may have misheard the pretty young woman in front of her. "It's to keep away the banshees." The author repeated. "You see, should one come here, they will be forced to stop and count each individual grain of salt before they can enter the house to attack." Arine looked at her host in befuddlement; she wasn't sure what to make of such an answer. Of course, between reading the novel this woman wrote, her almost fey physical appearance and the whole enchanted atmosphere of the inside of her lodgings, she was almost half-tempted to believe her. Noting the blonde's reaction, Mia simply laughed again good naturedly. "Relax." she said, "It's more of a family tradition than anything else. After all, this isn't the Emerald Isles, and I greatly doubt there'd be any banshees roaming loose in Upstate New York." Arine smiled at that, "Oh, of course." she said. Mia motioned with her hand toward an antique chair by the fireplace. "Have a seat," the brunet said, "And I'll be right back with your tea." As she left the room, Arine sat down and opened her backpack. She took out her tape recorder and placed a blank tape in it. She then went to pull out her notebook and pen out, when the cat from earlier leapt onto her lap. "Hello." the blonde said as she began to pet the black cat with the white snout, "You're a friendly one." she said as she rubbed it behind the ear. As the cat began to purr, she heard movement behind her just before something landed on her chair behind her. Reasoning that it must be another cat, Arine reached back behind her head and began to stroke it when Mia came back into the room with the two cups of tea. "Oh," the author said in genuine surprise, "You've made friends with Althor. He normally doesn't like strangers." "Althor?" Arine asked, "Is that the name of the cat on my lap?" "No." Mia answered, "The owl behind you you're currently petting." The blonde turned quickly to see a large brown owl studying her intently. She then turned back to the amused brunet who passed her one of the cups of tea. "Don't worry," Mia said as she noted the befuddled look the reporter was giving her, "Like I said, he seems to likes you." Arine felt a bit better at the author's reassurance, and took a sip of her tea. "Mmmm... This is good." she said, "What kind of tea is this?" "Dandelion root." Mia said as she sat down in the chair in front of her, "Well, shall we begin?" "Yes, of course." the blonde answered as she took her tape recorder and hit the record button on the machine. She opened the notepad to the set of pre-written questions as she felt the owl behind her stir a bit and began the interview. Arine quickly became used to the presence of the large brown bird behind her, and the next forty-five minutes seemed to fly by for the reporter. Mia was lively, jovial and gracious to the reporter, giving in-depth answers to each question and even volunteering some details about her upcoming novel. Arine was surprised to notice however that, as time went on, their time together began to become less of an interview and more of a conversation. She found herself volunteering facts about herself to this strangely mesmerizing young author, such as the fact she was an only child and her favorite color was green. The reporter began to become thankful she was recording the interview; every time she looked into the young woman's dark eyes or found her gaze falling again on her cute little pointy ears she forgot to take notes. She knew she was supposed to be conducting an interview, but between Mia's adorable face, cute Irish accent and her figure Arine could feel herself falling for the author. She began to mentally chastise herself, reminding herself of the fact that she had no idea what the author's sexual preference was as Mia continued to answer a question on advice to other aspiring authors. Suddenly, halfway through her answer, the tape machine clicked off. "Shoot." Arine mumbled. As she removed the tape from the recorder, Mia got up and went over to where the mandolin was resting next to the fireplace. The brunet picked it up and went back to her chair. As Arine turned the tape around and hit the record button once again, she was surprised to hear music coming from in front of her. She looked up from her recorder to see the author playing a folk tune on the instrument in her hands. Mia looked up from the mandolin to meet Arine's gaze as she began to sing. The blonde reporter was spellbound; never having heard Welsh or Irish Gaelic before, she felt herself overcome by the lyrical beauty of the languages Mia sang in, the author's voice both hauntingly beautiful and romantically sensual at the same time. After two songs, the brunet tilted her head a bit as she looked at Arine. "Tell me something," Mia said as she stopped playing the mandolin, "If it's not too personal, when did you first know you liked girls?" Arine was taken aback by the question, "What?" she asked, "How did you... What makes you think..." "Simple." Mia answered as she once again flashed her warm, sprightly smile, "My eyes are up here." she said as she pointed up to her face. Arine blushed profusely as she suddenly realized she'd been staring at the author's chest, "Oh... Oh my God." she groaned as she got up from her seat. Mia put the mandolin down next to her and stood up as well. "I... I'm so sorry." Arine said, too mortified to meet Mia's gaze. "Miss Lloyd... Arine, it's alright." the brunet assured her, "Don't worry so." "But... I... This is so unprofessional on my part, I don't know what to say, I..." she was cut off as Mia placed a gentle finger up to her lips to quiet her. "Arine, it's okay." The brunet said in a soft voice, "I feel the same way about you." With that, she removed her finger and turned around to pick up her mandolin. As the blonde reporter's jaw dropped from what she just heard Mia say, the author put the musical instrument back by the fireplace, and then strolled over to a small stereo on the other side of the fireplace. She pushed a few buttons, and as softly romantic music began to play she came back over to Arine. "Turn your tape recorder off." the author said. Arine did so and then turned back to Mia. "Tell me," Mia said as she reached up and lightly stroked Arine's cheek, "Are you dancing?" "Mmmm..." Arine mumbled as she reveled in the feel of the brunet's hand across her cheek, "Wha..." Mia softly giggled, "No, no. You see, where I come from, one person is supposed to say, ‘are you dancing?' and the other is supposed to answer, ‘are you asking?'." "Oh." the blonde said as she reached out her own hand to stroke Mia's cheek. She was pleased to see the brunet close her eyes as she leaned into Arine's hand, apparently just as affected by her as she was by the writer, "Are... Are you asking?" Mia breathed deeply as she turned to kiss the palm of Arine's hand, "I'm asking." "Then," Arine said as she reached out and cautiously pulled the other woman closer to her, "I... I guess that means I'm dancing." she said. As the music continued and the two started to dance in place, Arine and Mia met each other's gaze again. "This is crazy, you know." the blonde said, "We only just met. You don't know anything about me." "I know you're Arine from Nebraska," Mia answered, "That your favorite color is green, and that you're an only child. I also know that Althor, who normally shuns everyone but me, seems to have taken an instant liking to you. And finally, I know that... That I fell in love with you the moment I first saw you at the train depot." she added, deciding to wait till a later date to tell the young reporter that the rune stones she cast yesterday told her that the reporter she would meet today was destined to be her soul mate. Arine wasn't sure what to say to that. She stopped dancing and cradled the brunet's face in her hands just before she leaned forward to press her lips to Mia's. The kiss started out slowly at first, but then began to deepen as the two wrapped their arms around one another.
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