Silently, the warrior listened, her body motionless with effortless ease. She was patient in her listening, carefully feeling the tones and the colours upon the air. Indeed, a storyteller could be useful—perhaps she could be paired with Mew’s music, although, at the moment, Mew bore life in her womb. It was the lattermost thing, however, that caught the warrior’s attention. "You know of plants," the soft melody repeated, almost as a clarifying statement. Colibri, too, she had heard, was a woman of plants. But Colibri had not taken a healer’s position, and the warrior did not think that Haku’s daughter knew that particular use of plants. "What is the manner of your knowledge?" Dahlia most definitely was in need of a healer. Most acutely, the warrior wished for Mew to have aid in the processes birthing of which she was so terrified.
"The soul doesn’t die," the soft melody explained. "It is eternal. The body dies, and the mind can die too. But the soul will remember." The soul was one thing that, like time, could not be destroyed. The soul was, in essence, a part of time itself, an intangible entity without change, and yet it was constantly changing. It was something inexplicable through words, and so the warrior, who knew less of words than action, did not try to explain it. It was not something that required understanding, for it was not something that could be changed. Instead, it required only acknowledgment, and so the woad-marked fae presented to the flamboyant fae the idea to be acknowledged. But it seemed as if the girl believed herself to be dead; perhaps the mind had died, but the body was, most certainly alive, and so the mind must not be dead but dormant. The warrior wondered why the girl believed herself dead. "Death has a cold hand—like the cool breeze of autumn on a summer’s noon." There was a brief pause. "Perhaps you are simply lost." The Dahlian Adonis believed that the words explained such a thing, but she knew very little of this female’s life.
"How did he kill you?" The words were spoken quietly, and yet they rose with ease upon the air, gently and without need. Had the situation been different, the warrior would not have asked. Indeed, it was unbecoming to pry into the business of another. But this female sought passage and acceptance into the pack of Dahlia de Mai, and the warrior wished to understand who it was that stood before her so that she may act accordingly.
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