[Yay, got internet back at home after several days!]
“Ohh, that’s alright, deary.” Grandma Margie creaks as she waves it away, “We ate earlier, but you can use our fireplace to make whatever you like. Come on inside.”
She turns to shuffle into the house as someone with all the time in the world.
The inside of Grandma Margie’s house is low-ceilinged and dim. It is mostly one large room with pillars and half-walls separating different areas: a wash room, a pantry, a shelving area. In the middle of the main area, there is a square hole in the floor boards, in which a fire pit is set up. A large kettle hangs from a hook over it, above which a metal exhaust hood comes down from the ceiling to direct the heat up into the chimney.
“Thomas!” Grandma Margie calls out in the soft voice of a butterfly, “Thomas! We have gue~ests!”
An old man with slumped shoulders pops his bald head up from behind one of the half-walls. “Hmm?” He scratches at the few wisps of hair on his chin.
“They’re Journeyers, they saw our little village as a nice place to visit!” she tuts an explanation as she shuffles slowly through the house, tidying up a blanket here and a candlestick there. “Please, help yourself to some tea.” she indicates to the suspended kettle. There is a tray with a container of loose leafed tea and a half emptied cup nearby. Soon–on Margie’s terms of time, at least–she is bringing out a tray with more cups.