Emberwood I'm just telling the truth

He struggled again to read her lips, straining to make out the silent words - it was a thing that intruiged him greatly, for he'd never encountered one without the ability to speak. Or at least, one who perhaps refused entirely to form sentences; maybe it was the way she'd grown up, or a habit cursing her lips from fear. Either way, the smoky young man watched her mouth carefully, repeating potential words within his mind before he was mostly certain of what she was trying to say.

"I see," the deep voice replied, thinking it a rather dismal thing - he knew what it was like, to lose yourself, and maybe it was this that blocked speech. "I wish you the best of luck, then." Truthfully, he did; she seemed a sweet lady, at heart, and the troubles of the world were great. It displeased him to imagine that she would not find herself, would remain lost and timid.