"I went back... to my world," Effy says, pausing for a moment on the word on the tip of her tongue. Perhaps the fact that her memories of the island and of Darrow disappeared the moment she returned to England meant that it was indeed returning home, but she doesn't want to use that word anymore. Not now that she's here, in a place that's taught her to grow every bit as much as the high rises of London did.
She leans against the trunk of the tree, bringing her legs up to balance on the branch, body holding a loosely perpendicular position.
"Before I came here, there was actually another world that I'd been to that wasn't my own," she explains. "I was born in England, and before I completed college, I was transported to an island that bore some similarities to this city. People would show up out of nowhere. And they would vanish without warning or trace. There weren't people who considered themselves natives, however — just a bunch of us outsiders, marooned on an island that would magically provide for us, stocking some food in our pantries and providing roofs over our heads." She closes her eyes, recalling the wash of the waves and smell of the sea. "When I returned suddenly to England, I remembered nothing of the island. And then, one day, I showed up here, and everything that happened on the island came back to me. Back to England, nothing. And now, back here again, with my memories intact."
Her eyes opened slowly, an almost imperceptible furrow in her brow. "It seems like none of these places let you remember anything when you're living life in your original world. But apparently you don't have to lose them forever. Just have to go through the looking glass again."
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She leans against the trunk of the tree, bringing her legs up to balance on the branch, body holding a loosely perpendicular position.
"Before I came here, there was actually another world that I'd been to that wasn't my own," she explains. "I was born in England, and before I completed college, I was transported to an island that bore some similarities to this city. People would show up out of nowhere. And they would vanish without warning or trace. There weren't people who considered themselves natives, however — just a bunch of us outsiders, marooned on an island that would magically provide for us, stocking some food in our pantries and providing roofs over our heads." She closes her eyes, recalling the wash of the waves and smell of the sea. "When I returned suddenly to England, I remembered nothing of the island. And then, one day, I showed up here, and everything that happened on the island came back to me. Back to England, nothing. And now, back here again, with my memories intact."
Her eyes opened slowly, an almost imperceptible furrow in her brow. "It seems like none of these places let you remember anything when you're living life in your original world. But apparently you don't have to lose them forever. Just have to go through the looking glass again."