and it’s my whole heart

"Hiya."

Their voice is probably a touch too loud for the hour, but that's okay. They don't want to spook Galriel by coming around from her blind side unexpectedly - which is also why Rion does a full loop in front of her to be able to plop down on her left.

He knows a few things from being Flynn's sibling, after all.

"It's nice at this time of night, isn't it?"

No oh, can't sleep? or nightmares, again? They don't need to ask - the conversation doesn't need to go in the direction of what they both already know. It doesn't matter that they've not really talked before, or that Rion's only really seen Galriel with Flynn or when she's completely on guard, selling potions. They treat everyone like their best friend - except Maple, who they treat as a little more.

And then-

But it would have been worse had Rion not announced their presence, or had they approached from her blind side. She appreciates it, whether or not it was intentional.

Still, she takes a deep breath to slow the sudden spike of adrenaline. Rion is no threat. Just an exuberant surprise. “It is,” Galriel says softly. “But I didn’t expect anyone to join me.”

The silence is almost…… companionable. She only has the vaguest recollection of Rion as a toddler before she left the grove; Galriel mostly knows them through Flynn’s words. She expects them to say something else eventually (Rion’s not exactly known for being quiet), but she doesn’t expect that.

he steadied himself. what a thing of wonder it was, that a man who had smited ghouls and had slain all manner of wretch trembled before this cleric like a frighted child. he found himself, absurdly, laughing as he took in her confusion. it wasn't a pleasurable sound, though; his voice felt like glass close to shattering. he didn't know what shadow-touched meant. he was new enough to adventuring that there was a wealth of things that made no sense to his formerly quiet cosmology; magic and all of its mysteries were a thing for other people to know and only for him in passing like a forgotten name.

“it's easy to sense undead and you don't know what i am?” he took a step back. he didn't want the cleric so close, even if curiosity fought with his fear for dominance and kept him rooted in place. kyran folded his arms across his chest, keen reddened eyes meeting her grey. he said then, apprehensively, after a moment of silence, “i think i was drained by a vampire and survived.” another pause. kind of survived. it was better than what he almost said, something defensive or sarcastic.

memento cringed away from his laughter, from his mockery. what a stupid, useless fool he must think her. why had she said anything at all?

they wiped their hands and needle clean, to give themself something to do other than tremble. only after a long moment did they meet his gaze, apologetic and fearful. “your aura is different than any i have ever seen, but i do not know why or what was done to you.” she barely understood her abilities, much less what they meant. she did not have enough experience outside the convent walls to understand the different types of auras she saw.

and it had been a long, long time since they'd seen anyone undead.

at his explanation, though, a bit of clarity filtered in. memento tilted his head slightly, thoughtful and birdlike, as he pondered it. "yes," he says after a moment. "it's not..... common. but common enough for your kind to have a name, though i don't recall what it is at the moment." there is much he does not know, content as he is to hide within the convent and ignore the outside world.

zahrosa knows about the child, of course. it irritates her that she is not permitted to meet their daughter, as though her mere presence has a corruptive influence, as though she intends to deliberately harm the child - but she has no intention of admitting such a thing. she would rather let ulyana believe that it matters very little to her than acknowledge the little pang in her chest.

"it does not matter," the sorceress answers. "it did not come to that, and it would not have come to that."

whether that means that she would have stepped in if things went south ... well, she is at least implying that she would have. zahrosa clicks her tongue in disapproval, hands coming to rest on her sharp hips. "i am not a monster, ulyana."

“it matters,” they grit out, “to me.”

it is not entirely a slight against zahrosa herself. very few people are allowed to meet oksana, and the guilt gnaws at them for keeping their daughter isolated the way they once were. gods willing, her curse will be dealt with by the time she is old enough to truly need socialization.

ulyana takes a shuddering breath, starts pacing their small room despite the weariness still clinging to their bones. “i am all she has. you know this. you hand me death in the form of an unassuming trinket and expect me to trust you when you say it will not come to that?" she has not yet earned their trust.