Nimbus Summit I wish that I could just be brave.

What followed was something Zephrine was accustomed to: mild condescension, immediate correction, and the passably stoic attitude of a strict matronly figure essentially scolding her with a lesson. Her ears slanted back on her head for half a second and then turned attentively towards Niamh again, a wince more than anything, listening raptly as if she were indeed a student - perhaps one that was being subjected to a principal's wrath.

It didn't matter to her what people wanted to be called. She had never thought about it, merely going with the flow of what was taught to her. The barbed tone that Niamh employed made a nervous shudder run down Zephrine's spine but she stood there as firmly as she was able, rooted to the spot as she listened.

"Right, yes - of course," the girl assented with the habitual cadence of someone who was always, somehow, in the wrong. Her voice was muted compared to Niamh's; then the woman was requesting information and Zephrine was quick to deliver, hoping to ease whatever tension (real or imaginary) abounded between them.

"Um. I suppose... What sort of things would you like to know...?" She looked to-and-fro, almost as if the words were winged and she needed to snatch them from the air to fashion them in to knowledge. "Old Kingslend - where we hailed from - was a lot like these woods. My uncles and aunts ran things, at least.. Until the fire." As Zephrine broached the topic of the fire, as the word passed her lips, she felt herself crumbling inward a bit.