She'll resist the urge to load up on calories and marginal food-spirit when the food starts looking visibly low, and continues to resist even after Torvesh brings out additional snacks. At least, not unless someone notices her looking at the food and dragging her eyes back off it and reassures her it's alright to have more, which it seems like the older woman might.

She does her best to answer the questions she's asked, to the limit of the story she's put together in her head. She's from a village in central Federation territory (true, though she struggles with translating 'Federation'), she came here by following the road that she found after climbing up from the beach (true, ignoring how she got to the beach), she doesn't really have any hobbies but she spent most of her time helping gather and prepare medicine in the village (true, up until she met her teacher), she's not really a linguist but she can at least go over the basics (plainly true), so on and so forth. She will certainly ask questions, mostly just trying to get a sense of what society is like here, the history of this place, why it's named after 'Sea-Dragons' and what those even are, whether they'd have any use for an herbalist such as herself, that sort of thing.

The old woman continues to not speak LCTL. But she does prompt one of the children to relay that Dzarmpsoz should eat her fill: "It's spring, and food is plentiful". Dzarmpsoz probably doesn't recognize that as an old saying about hospitality, though. Modern þereminia has a globalized shipping network and therefore not as much seasonal food-dependence.

For answers to her questions:

Sea-Dragons are a story, not real. (It's a really cool story, though, one of the children asserts. There's underwater cities and pearls that let you breathe underwater and everything.) This place is named after them because there are two similar farms on this side of the island, and it's more memorable than calling it 'traditional communal farm two'. The community was established a few hundred years ago — you can see the foundations of the old barns to the east — and has changed somewhat in size and role since then, but has been holding steady for the last few hexades.

They don't have much use for an herbalist-as-medicine-worker, since modern medicine has advanced a bit past that and they already have a part-time nurse. But they do have plenty of use for an herbalist-as-skilled-tender-of-herbs, if that suits her skills. Specifically, they have some greenhouses for growing winter crops that always need a certain amount of babying in the harsh winters. During the summer, there's general farm work, and of course there's always maintenance work, teaching the children, etc.

One of the adults does make sure to clarify that A) she's a guest for at least the next six days, and needn't worry about doing anything other than recovering from her sudden dislocation until that point, and B) she could likely make more money in the city talking to academics or writing books about her homeland. Lots of people can work with plants, but almost nobody else can share things about her world of origin.

Well, if they insist, she will keep eating. Mm, garlic...

She puts a smile at that. Having more money is nice, but she's not much of a writer.

Though, as she considers it more, maybe she should go down that route. This world seems pretty thoroughly to lack the taboo against smoke magic, on account of seemingly lacking magic entirely. If information about the Continent is that valuable, she can only assume they must be interviewing the island warden thoroughly, and that means they'll probably hear all about the Kings...but she's made sure to never be seen by him, and he doesn't seem like he'd have much actual experience with witches in general either.

It might be an opportunity to set things straight. Not about the Kings, but about her, about her teacher, about the smoke mages who helped Sjesjerkwapar's army overthrow the Kings!

"I might do that. I will think about it. Tending greenhouse is good at now."

Fair enough. There's general nodding.

As people eat their fill, they will file out in small groups or individually. Some of them head into a different room to do something that involves the sound of laughter and objects pinging off of other objects, but the majority head out into the still-light evening and fan off to different buildings.

A strong-looking person of indeterminate gender comes to sit near Dzarmpsoz as people start to clear out and lets her know that they've set up one of the guest rooms for her, and can show her there when she likes. Or, if she doesn't like sleeping alone, they have a trundle bed she can use.

She'll nod along, as one does, but won't join people in either going outside or in gathering in the other room, instead taking up the strong one's offer of showing her to the room she'll be staying in for the time being.  "Sleeping alone is good," she answers. It makes setting up alarm constructs simpler, at least.

Then they will show her up to a small room on the second floor.

It's a pretty typical þereminian bedroom — which is to say that it contains a hatrack-like thing for robes, a large window with a view of the hills, a desk, a bed, a solid headboard with some D-rings, and exposed beams. The bathroom is down the hall, and features a large bathtub with a lovingly hand-painted sea dragon on it.

Having shown her both these things, they bid her goodnight and head down the hall to their own room.

She does find the total dominance of robes in the fashion of these people a little peculiar, now that she stops and thinks about it. She's always hated dresses and skirts bouncing around her legs and ever since she ran away she's stuck with trousers and never looked back. She wonders what the cultural impetus for it is.

The window is nice. Her first thought is that at least she won't have to break down any walls if she needs to escape and the other ways out are barred, but the view is nice, too.

She tests the bed, but given she's slept on the ground more than once, including quite recently, she's not all that concerned. She will scan it for pests, though, just in case. She's a little worried about those rings as well, they look awfully convenient for keeping someone prisoner. If there's a way to non-destructively remove them she will, and then hide them away somewhere else in the room, and if there isn't she'll at least look for something she can stuff into them to make using them just a little slower.

Once that business is all done, she'll see about taking a bath. It's been so long since she's had a nice bath...

The bed is mercifully free of pests and much softer than the ground.

The rings are screwed into the wood with hex-drive screws capped with little plastic nubs. So if she has some way of creating or obtaining a screwdriver, they're pretty easy to remove. Otherwise she might find it a bit challenging.

The bath is big — long enough for a child to lie fully down in, and for an adult to lie most of the way down, with their feet planted against one end and their head resting on the slope at the other end. It's plumbed with two spouts that both empty into a bucket, which itself has a hole in the bottom to let water empty into the bath. One of the spouts is warm-ish to the touch and the other cold. The bath is stoppered with a plug on a little retaining chain.

Some bar soap sits in a little dish to one side of the bath, but other bath-time condiments are missing. There's a set of towels folded in a series of cubbies by the door.

She's no mechanic, but forming a smoke construct to fit tightly against the interior contours of the screwheads and then extruding a handle to get some good leverage is all basic. D-rings: removed and hidden.

And now, bath! With warm water, even. She's been making do with streams and rivers or the ocean, maybe scrubbing herself with a cleansing construct when she has the spirit to spare, for a long while now. Warm water and plain soap are the lap of luxury, relatively speaking.

She lets herself take a while, just to enjoy the experience, but when she almost falls asleep in the tub she decides it's time to wrap things up, draining the water then drawing more for a final rinse and drain, then dries off, cleans up the various residues and detritus left in the tub, spares a little more smoke to comb out her, then dresses back in her underclothes for modesty's sake and takes the rest of her things back to her room, hangs them awkwardly on the robe-hanger

After extruding some well-camouflaged alarm constructs along the door and window, and one connected to her and the bed just for good measure, she finally drops herself into the bed and, without so much as pulling the covers over herself, quickly falls into a deep sleep.