A comfortable quiet had fallen after the chatting part of their language lesson; Thalurias was practicing his Solvaren alphabet with patient hands while Honn had resumed reading the thick tome of A Visual Dictionary of Shattered Isles Herbs and Other Flora. She was in the middle of mentally trying to trace the etymology of a familiar-looking, strangely-named weed when Thalurias politely cleared his throat. Possibly for the second or third time. 

“Sorry, what?” Honn didn’t actually look up from her page, brows furrowed pensively.

“I would like to ask your opinion,” Thalurias murmured. He had reverted to Isle Lunvaren.

“Is it Kiandriel?” she asked automatically. That was her usual response to any open-ended question Thalurias asked. She was fairly certain he understood it to be her sense of humor now.

“This time, yes.”

Honn looked up, and Thalurias smiled faintly. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“I am… concerned… that I am not making myself clear to him.” Thalurias frowned, rolling his pen between his long fingers. “I wonder if it is a language or culture difference that I cannot see.”

Honn looked wistfully down at her book, took a moment to scribble a note to herself on a piece of scrap parchment on her incomplete etymology assessment, and tucked the paper into the valley of the book’s seam. She swiveled on her seat and draped her arms over the back of her chair. “Alright, let’s go. What’s he doing or not doing?”

Thalurias looked uncharacteristically melancholy as he studied the pen now flat in his palm. “I am not claiming any flaw to his actions. I fear I am not conveying myself appropriately. He seems to not… understand, or perhaps believe… that…” He trailed off, pursing his lips.

Honn stifled the urge to roll her eyes. “That, what, you like him? That he’s okay here?”

Thalurias blinked at her. “Ah. Yes. How did you--?”

She heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Thalurias, do you know why I always call Bell an idiot?”

His expression shifted from startled to uncertain. “Because… playful insults are an integral part of your relationship with him?”

Honn snorted a laugh. “Is that how he explained it to you? No, it’s because he’s an idiot a lot of the time. I know, because so am I.” She wagged a hand aimlessly. “This is a genuine case of ‘it’s not you, it’s him’. Me and him just got out of a new life where kinvari at best shun us and at worst want to kill us immediately. The one safe place we had has been wrecked. A lot of our friends are dead, and the rest are in hiding. You can see how that makes a kinvar feel a little insecure, yeah? Like maybe nowhere is safe and no one wants us around?”

Thalurias lowered his eyes. “I do understand why these feelings exist. The gravity of your past and current situation has not escaped me.” He paused. “Is there no way that I can assure him that I, at least, am a safe harbor for as long as he wishes one?”

She quirked a rueful grin. “There are plenty of ways, but none of them fast. Look. All us voy’Aeldvari have been living at quickened speeds since the original bunch got kicked out of their city. I’d compare it to Hymvaren speed, but you don’t have a great reference for that. Everything for us has developed so quickly, changed so fast--so drastically--that each of your well-meaning reassurances has the lifespan of a flower in bloom. He doesn’t disbelieve you. He’s just watching the sky for the next storm to sweep in.”

Thalurias was frowning again, the curve of his lips pulling his long face into a starkly severe shape. “I would bring him flowers every day if it would help him believe me.”

“Then do.” Honn grinned at his startled look. “Keep telling him. Keep reminding him. If you care about him, make it something he can’t ignore or explain away. It’s not your fault that we’re--” She exhaled and changed her choice of words. “--complicated kinvari in a precarious situation. So don’t take it personally when he doesn’t seem to believe you.” Her grin shifted to a wry smile. “Bell and me are pretty high-maintenance kinvari right now. It won’t always be this way--I hope--but if you’re in with him, you have to roll with the same waves he’s under.”

“You use many unusual metaphors.” Thalurias offered her a wan smile. “But I think I understand.”

“Hey, at least I’m using them in your language and not mine. I could make you try to keep up with my Lunvaren.” She laughed at his grimace. “You’re a really good kinvar, Thalurias. You’ve still got a proper Aeldvaren-eye view of time. Be patient with him, if you can.” She stopped, words tangling in her mouth as she thought of Halariel. “The more you can keep an eye to the horizon and see a time past all this chaos, the more he might be able to see it too.”

Thalurias inclined his head. “And you, Honn? You feel the same uncertainty and urgency as he does?”

She laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, yes. It’s maddening. Halariel is doing far better than either me or Bell, so it’s just the two of us who are paper birds in a strong wind. I can give Bell great advice, and he can do the same for me, but when it comes to ourselves, we’re both idiots. I have no idea how much longer Halariel will put up with me--ah, but that’s not your problem.”

Thalurias leaned forward and caught her eye. “Honn, Kiandriel is not the only kinvar who has a home and a future here. You and Halariel are included.” He smiled softly. “I will bring you flowers every day, too.”

“Slightly different flowers,” Honn muttered, trying to make light of the sudden weight in her chest at his words.

His smile reached his silver eyes, brightening them. “All flowers are unique, are they not?”