She waited. She waited for what felt like hours upon hours and hours for him to decide what to do. Perhaps it was a minute, perhaps only seconds, but it felt like an eternity to the young witch. She wanted to fix this. Her fingers tapped against her thigh anxiously, flickering her gaze between the slightly out of focus person to the bright and beautiful house. Why wasn't her mind allowing her to solve this alone? She was good at this. Problem solving. Even when she had the wrong answer in front of her, it was just a stepping stone to the right one.
And she was terrified. Gods, she was terrified, and angry all at once. Only one of those emotions felt foreign to her. She was unaccostumed to being angry. Truly angry. This angry. She was eager, friendly, curious. Afraid. Afraid was something she could be. Something she was almost constantly being. Fight through it. Use it. Weild it. Her father taught her well. Let it be a motivator, not a hindrance. And yet.... she was so terrified. Not that she was wrong, but that someone had tampered with her mind. Someone had gone into her sanctuary and messed with it, and now she was going to forever see an illusion.
"Everyone has their enemies," she replied softly, happy that she finally sounded like herself again. "That doesn't mean you're any less real. You're real because unreal things can't touch real things." Perhaps she was the unreal here. She was walking a tightrope that led to either insanity or understanding, and the wind was blowing hard. But, this was what she did. She walked this every single day. She endeavored, perservered.
He finally reached her again, and she could see the expression of superiority and disdain in silver-gold eyes. (How unusual. She would have to make a note of that.) "I said I was sorry for being rude, you know," she retorted, an eyebrow raised at his last statement. "So... you see rubble and danger. Curious." Her head tilted at the building, and she raised a hand, pushing it forward again. Only this time, it was slowly covered in a soft pink glow as she probed the two realities trying to find the truth.
And, nothing. She felt nothing. Which was more concerning, honestly. "Huh," she breathed, retracting her hand, the glow fading. "I'm not crazy, by the way." It was an afterthought, said in a dream like voice. A defense that came naturally to her. "I think I'm glamoured, by what, I'm not certain. It doesn't react to magic, which makes it curious. And why me?"
She took a step backwards. "I see my home. Not that you care, but... if you saw your home, the place you feel safest, wouldn't you try to return? That's what I see, and something wants me to very badly go in there. Which is why it made me react so... rudely to you. My father is the rude one, not me." Not true, your biological parents were the actual worst. Not the point. She made a point to try to be kind, to be understanding, and to not fly off the handle over nothing.
Her gaze found his face again, noting the blur around the edges once more. "Have you heard of anything like it?" She didn't expect an answer after she had been so ugly to him, but... she wouldn't know if she didn't ask, right?