Moonstone Quarry kajurujuk ≉

He bowed his head at her words, a silent show of respect. "I understand," he said, though his upbringing had been far different from hers, "I... suppose I am not used to that way. Where I am from, men and women bowed to my mother, and she would have given her life for us, if such was required to keep us safe." It was why the Mother Stone was most valued of all.

"A ballad?" he repeated, caught of guard by her interest and inquiry. "Well, I - I've never much defined..." he shook his head with the slightest quaver, "they are songs that tell a story, about someone famous, or someone heroic, or some love that has been lost. They are ... mournful. Sad." He thought, perhaps, it might be socially fitting to offer to share one with her - but not even mother had known that side of him, that wrote lines with the stars and the midday wind as he patrolled the boundaries of their home.