He shrugs. "It's lonely, but honestly I was much crazier before the curse."

(Navethae relays this, with a slightly concerned expression on her face.)

"Well, all right, fair enough. And you have one and a half people to talk to, now."

(He looks thoughtful.)

He snorts with amusement. "Yes."

After a relay:

"I'd offer to hug you, but there are some ominous trees in my way."

"... I can," offers Navethae, a little shyly. "If you, um. Want a hug."

"...I'd feel a little ridiculous," he says, looking down at her. "And I'm - a little afraid I might hurt you by accident - I've gotten good at being careful but for two thousand years there hasn't been anything here that the valley couldn't just make again if I wrecked it..."

"Fair enough, and it would be kind of ridiculous - it might be doable safely if you stay still and I hug you? But that might make it even more ridiculous and might tempt fate a bit."

He laughs. "Maybe later. But - thanks. I appreciate the offer."

"Yeah, no problem."

"... Question, uh. What part makes a hug ridiculous?"

"Oh, he's twelve feet tall and, um. A little bit beastly. No offense."

"None taken," he says, smiling.

"..... Huh," pronounces Rylen. "Okay. Thank you for being responsible about not breaking my sister, I only have the one."

"I like your sister," he says to the table.

"He says he likes me," relays Navethae, sounding sort of pleased with this. "Thank you for that."

"And I don't think it's just because you're the first person who's spoken to me in two thousand years."

"I have won you over with my natural charm and wit?"

He giggles.

She giggles, too.

Rylen looks thoughtful again.

"He keeps getting that look," Tarakova observes.

"He does, doesn't he," she agrees. "Rylen, are you having a thought?"

"Eh. About a quarter of one. Nothing substantial or really even repeatable. Don't worry about it."

Tarakova shrugs agreeably.