Moonspear Texts from you and sex from you

As she explained how the use of a plant might be capable of making it appear as even more beautiful, he listened, smiling all the while. It was a thought that he’d never had before, primarily due to the fact that he possessed no knowledge of what sorts of uses the flowers he adored might have. He could identify them and respect their visual appeal, but to go on and understand plus recite how they might be used? He could not do it, for never had he been taught, nor had he cared to learn. Only from his mother had he ever received lessons, and the memories of said time spent together was something that he wished to preserve. Thus, never would he learn of the uses behind the plants, for never would he allow another soul to teach him about the flowers. That, however, did not prevent him from appreciating those that did have such useful information, and so he said, “I suppose so,” in response to her words. “I had never before thought that a use could make a flower more beautiful, but I can see how it might.” That was as far as he’d go, too—imagining it, but nothing more.

“I believe that we can all be useful, just as long as we do not give up,” he returned. Always had his mother believed in the potential of others, and Alastor had taken to that sort of outlook on life quite well. He’d made it his own, and had always kept it close to his heart. Due to that, he felt certain that Pyx would always be a great healer, whether she learned more about poisons or not. Not another comment was made in regards to her desire for knowledge, however, given that he was at a loss for what he might next say. He could agree with her, but he could also disagree, and so silence was chosen over conflict. It was, after all, better to keep one’s mouth shut if kindness was not to leave it.

When asked about his opinion of Moonspear, he couldn’t keep a sheepish smile from invading his features. “I’ve enjoyed being here so far,” was his response, though his reason was not given. For the time being, he planned to keep that to himself, knowing that he needed to offer up more than just the presence of a friend as a reason for his interest in the mountain. It was good, he noted, that another question had been asked along with the first, for that had allowed him to jump from one topic to the next without much pause for suspicion. “I’ve met Charon, but not yet Amekaze,” said the foreigner. “What is Amekaze like, if you don’t mind my asking?” He was curious of all others that were members of the pack, for obvious reasons, and so any information he might receive on them would be appreciated.