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[false_kyllikki]

Kyllikki is sitting on the porch, embroidering a belt with birds and vines. The noonday sun is warm enough that she doesn't need a coat or a shawl, and she is smiling at the warmth of the day and humming little snatches of a cheery-tuned song (that is actually about a bride whose mother-in-law worked her like a slave). Go ahead and bother her if

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[deadondelivery]

[The Messenger is not quite used to this place or its occupants, so open and conversational, but he is trying, so he works up the courage to approach the beautiful woman]

Lady, I hope you would pardon me for interrupting, but that is a dazzling belt that you are making.

[false_kyllikki]

She looks up, startling a little, and smiles. "Thank you. Would you like it? I have so many already--"

[deadondelivery]

[Flushes. Stammering a bit:]

I would not dare to take such a lovely gift from such a lovely--that is, such a royal figure...!

[false_kyllikki]

"Oh--! Royal? No," she says quickly, for all she was a queen before her husband cast her out.

[le_desirous]

It's been a while since Sagramore's spoken to her, but he recognises her easily enough. He comes over and leans on the rail of the porch beside her. "Good afternoon."

[false_kyllikki]

From her chair, she makes a little seated bow. "Good afternoon, sir ... it seems we only meet here!"

[le_desirous]

"Oh, it was a while ago."

[false_kyllikki]

"It was ... but you were kind to me. And so wise--!"