"You caught me."

"It's an elven name."

"You know, that's not any less confusing."

"It's not, I agree."

"Are you telling me to mind my own business?"

"No, I'm just being a shit." He shrugs. "There isn't a story, there. Mom liked the name."

"So no mysterious elven ancestry that will reveal itself in unparalleled magical proficiency?"

"If it does I will be as surprised as you."

"I'm not sure I'd be surprised at this point, honestly, I've foreshadowed it and everything."

"Ah huh." Here's the mess hall, mostly empty at this time of night, and they can get their gruel over there. "And you, where are you from?"

"Morroc."

"...wait, wasn't Morroc..."

"Destroyed when a demon sunk it into the sands, yep."

"Shit. I'm sorry."

He shrugs. "They're rebuilding, there's a refugee camp, there are powerful people keeping the demons mostly at bay..."

...he's not gonna ask but he's sensing that Taharqi may have a specific reason to become an adventurer. Which, honestly, fair enough. Vallynn doesn't, so much—but what he does want to do is make the world safer and more peaceful and prosperous, so "defeat the demon that destroyed a country" isn't a bad quest to work towards.

He shrugs. Then pauses when he spots someone. "Let's sit over there," he says, gesturing with his chin at one of the very few occupied tables.

"—sure."

And the person that was over there looks up when they arrive then sighs longsufferingly.

"Vallynn, this is Annika Elgrsdóttir," says Taharqi, taking a seat. "Annika, this is Vallynn."

"A pleasure?"

"Mm."

"...I saw you punching the training dummy earlier. It looked really cool."

"My form isn't good enough."

"We're always our own worst critics."