She shivers a little, and is pretty happy to be snuggled in his arms.

"And you killed two of these things?"

"I can't say I killed Zhaitan. The Pact killed Zhaitan, three years ago. The guild is called that because it was the union of the three main guilds that were working against the dragons at the time: the Order of Whispers, the Durmand Priory, and the Vigil.

"Mordremoth I did kill. He was the plant and mind dragon, and he awoke last year. The sylvari, it was discovered, were originally meant to be his minions, but somehow the Pale Tree was purified and started creating them before Mordremoth ever rose. When he did, his influence was too strong for some sylvari, and they succumbed to him. We killed him personally—Caithe, Canach, and I—by entering his mind and slaying his avatar there—" He pauses, here, and closes his eyes. "And then by killing a dear friend of ours, Trahearne, the Marshal of the Pact, because the last sliver of Mordremoth had lodged itself inside him."

"Oh," she murmurs. She shifts in the hug so she can pet his hair and snuggle the everliving shit out of him. "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry."

He nods, purses his lips, but presses on. "And yesterday I was at the memorial of another friend that Mordremoth killed—Eir Stegalkin.

"I should also mention, because it's relevant—Glint turned out to be Kralkatorrik's daughter, and she turned against her master at the time of the dragons' last awakening thousands of years ago. I... don't know what caused her change of heart, but she was a strong force against him until he killed her in a fight between a guild called Destiny's Edge and himself. That guild—Caithe used to be part of it, and Rytlock, too, as well as Eir, a human called Logan Thackeray, an asura called Zojja—she's Taimi's mentor—and another asura called Snaff, who was killed by Kralkatorrik when Glint was. They are all legendary heroes in their own right."

"Yeah, I can see how. Your friends were all very competent, I'm kind of proud that I managed to keep up at all. Well, maybe I didn't quite, I was rather a bit more vulnerable."

He smiles, a bit. "I think priorities in battle strategy must have been quite different when resurrection was cheaply available."

"Ha. No kidding. I'm going to work to be less... made of paper and spite... in the future. Because resurrection is not cheaply available."

"Don't worry, princess, you did amazing."

"Eeee," she squeaks, nestling happily in his arms. "Good. I felt like I was contributing! I certainly convinced a lot of people to try to kill me! That usually means I'm contributing."

He laughs, and kisses the top of her head. "I believe the last bit of history is—well, not history, closer to current events. Before Glint died, she left one egg in the care of a group of humans called the Zephyrites. Mordremoth crashed their airship, and the egg—imprinted on me. I became its guardian. And then Caithe—she stole it from me. That was what had looked like a betrayal, that I talked about earlier."

"Ah. Yeah, that would look like one, wouldn't it." Snuggle. "Is, um, the egg okay, did she eventually return it, or...?"

"I got it back from her. The reason for it was—some sylvari have a mission thrust upon them when they are born, called a Wyld Hunt. It calls to them throughout their lives. Caithe's was to kill Zhaitan—and she fulfilled it.

"And then, unprecedentedly, she got a second Wyld Hunt: to protect the egg. And between Mordremoth's voice and the Wyld Hunt, she did not know who to trust, and she ran. But eventually I did get it back from her, and in the Maguuma Jungle we found a city, called Tarir. It was built by followers of Glint who had shed their mortal forms to become beings of energy and guard her legacy. The egg is there." He lets go of her hand to reach into a pouch and grab—a small round golden stone. "This portal stone will take me to the egg chamber if I want. I will show you it sometime."

"Okay. I think I'd like to see it, if you're willing to show me and the various followers of Glint won't poke holes in me for being there." Snuggle. "Poor Caithe. Poor all sylvari, actually, for having Mordremoth in their head. I'd find having a Wyld Hunt oppressive, too, but maybe they're different."

"I don't know what it feels like, but some do find it oppressive, and try to cut off all contact to it. They are a minority, though."

She hums a somewhat sad affirmative.

Then: "That sounds like I might be caught up on a basic rundown of history, then. There's probably a lot of nuance I'm missing, but I think I'll catch more of that with time more than anything else."

"I believe you're right. And I will stuff a certain communicator where it can't bother anyone," he says, reaching behind his back into his shirt to remove the small technomagical communicator and put it inside one of his mesmer-enchanted bags.

Vetareh laughs, softly. Yes, that does seem like a good place for the communicator right now, doesn't it.

"Thank you. On to other things, then," she murmurs. She repositions herself so she can gaze up at his pretty face. "You know, I was all set to jump into bed with you, but I think we might have accidentally acquired a little bit of emotional intimacy somewhere in there. Am I, uh, seeing things there, or...?"

"If the things you are seeing are my face then yes you are definitely seeing things. That should be the extent of them, though."

Snort. She traces fond circles into his shoulder and gazes up at him affectionately.

"Oh, good. I, um. Do you want to maybe talk about... whatever we are and whatever we want to be before we jump into bed together? Or just put that on hold, because it's complicated and maybe a little scary and I think it's been a long day for both of us, and we'd really just like to enjoy each other's company without having to disentangle feelings? Because personally I could go either way, I'm not exactly in a rush here."

"I... think I'd honestly rather go with the latter. I have never actually had 'emotional intimacy,' as you put it, before. I confess I don't know what my thoughts on it are."

"Okay. Then let's go with that, and not worry about it." She shifts in his arms, and carefully scootches so that instead of beside him, she's in his lap.

"I do believe," she purrs in his ear, "that I said I'd do terrible things to you."

"Why, yes, I seem to remember that."

"Did you know," she continues in her very soft purr, "that there are some ways a mesmer's magic can be twisted that result in interesting effects? We're a bunch of illusionists, after all, playing with the senses is kind of our thing."

She sketches a contraception signet with a free hand and casts it. Yep, she remembers that just fine, she senses the magic go through and everything settle into place properly.

"Well," he starts, raising his eyebrows and looking down at her. "I am familiar with what a present-day mesmer can do, but I think we have both seen today that you know a variety of tricks that surprise them."

"Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't want to surprise you. So instead I'm just going to tell you about each and every single one of them, in agonizing detail, and you're just going to have to convince me that you want to see what it's like first hand. Apparently they're quite nice, but I just don't know the modern sensibilities all that well." She blinks, innocently. "To your room? We'll have more space."