he's pleased to hear her affirm that she's settling in - good, not only because he does genuinely want everyone to be comfortable, but because, well, it means she's less likely to vanish on them. or at least that's what he tells himself (funny to have a pack run by a couple of boys with abandonment issues, but that's what happens when you keep bleeding members despite your best efforts, he guesses).
anatha explains what she's carrying. he knows what mint is but he didn't know its uses. "oh," the nénar says, feeling a bit silly for - judging is too strong a word, but, you know, the usual. "do you have a sore throat?" he asks, recalling his first fear that she'd been physically ill - she still smells fine but now he's curious, dang it.
she says no and delight is admittedly a little relieved, though now all the more curious. but then she clarifies it's about the taste and his ears perk up, intrigued. "yeah, i'll try a bit," the nénar says, inching forward slightly to take whatever she offers him.
he's beginning to connect her reticence to shyness. he doesn't actually know very much about her - about any of the núros, honestly, except from what he gleaned in moments (and for jomyo, but she's a different case). "where are you from, anatha?" the androgyne asks, his habit of collecting stories unfailing. he doesn't know exactly where matteo or sunflower are from either, but the former's scars tell a story and the latter .. is sort of a goof. anatha is just small and talks like she hasn't in a while, and, well, he's not a historian for nothing.
he blinks, and frowns slightly as he chews - not at the taste of the little leaves, which is oddly pleasant (and makes his mouth feel cold, somehow), but at the idea that anatha doesn't know. how could she not know?
her clarifications don't actually clear up much but delight grasps the idea that she doesn't remember. he's never met someone who can't remember where they're from. it unsettles him - he's dedicated his being to preserving history and here is someone who, more or less, doesn't have one. he's never heard of drageda (unsurprisingly) so there's nothing he can do to help out, either. "i see," he says, still frowning, then pauses. "you were right, these do taste good."
he wonders how far back she's lost. "where did you come to us from?" he tries - wondering if something happened to leave her in this state or if it's just... well, he's not a medic, he doesn't know.
he mirrors her, sitting, chewing the leaves slowly though they've lost their flavor. he doesn't know if he's supposed to swallow them or spit them out but he doesn't want to risk offending her so with a bit of effort the androgyne swallows the bitter leaf remnants, making a tiny bit of a face. he gathers from her timeline that she remembers recent history but not much more than that. how strange. he doesn't know undersea either but it goes into his mental rolodex alongside arthendal and northstar vale. and molech, which doesn't sound like a pack name. "molech?" delight echoes, curious, his tail curled around his white-tipped toes. "sorry," he adds, sheepish, "i... like collecting stories, i guess. wolves' histories. but you don't gotta - if you can't remember.." the nénar trails off awkwardly, hoping she understands. he isn't trying to press her or anything, he's just - very, very curious.
what she tells him doesn't quite make sense -- but memory is a fraught, shifting thing, incomplete and imperfect. that's why we have historians. that's why we catalogue at all. he files molech and undersea away, fragments of something that might come up again - and blinks slow at her admission. anatha is vague enough but delight thinks she means amnesia of some sort. his mouth still tastes minty. "so you really don't remember a lot, huh?" the androgyne asks, blunt but not unkindly. "is undersea a .. pack?"