Rhea shuddered as she glanced out the window. "Nasty wind out there," she muttered quietly.
Porone Belltower poked the fire idly, and looked at the bubbling pot before him with a satisfied eye. "Well, we'll soon have this cider warmed," he said cheerily. "We may not be able to stop the wind, but we can warm ourselves up..." He paused and looked at the girl. "You... can't stop the wind, can you?"
"I might be able to, but someone would notice," she said. "Mother always stressed that. Always be careful. Practice, but never use your powers in such away as to be... obvious. Because then, then they'd find us. And it would all be for nothing."
Porone stared at her a moment, then ladled out a cup of cider. "Here," he said offering it to her. "I feel you need this more than I do."
She looked at the cup a moment, then grasped it with both hands. She raised it to her lips, then froze. There was a sudden shudder, and then the cup was dashed to the floor.
Porone stared at the girl contorting before him, apparently in the grip of some horrific seizure. He wondered what to do. He had little experience in these matters. Oh, there was a Belltower cousin with the affliction, but he was a distant relative, kept in the deep cellars of the tower, out of the sight of most of his kin. Porone knew of him only by rumor, really. As were how one handled such matters. He'd heard something about spoons, he believed, but he wasn't sure...
"Miss, are you all right?" he asked, mentally kicking himself for asking something he so clearly knew the answer to.
"Yes," she answered weakly. She rose unsteadily and returned to her seat by the window. "I... I'm sorry about spilling the drink."
"Forget about it," said Porone, preparing another cup. "Here... have this one..." She looked at him and gave a thankful nod. "Miss... your... your eyes..."
"Do not worry," she muttered. Rhea shut the eye that had changed to a murky green. "It is... a family... thing."