When at first her question meets with silence, she wonders if perhaps he has no answer, or perhaps did not hear the question. While her curiosity begged for her to gently pry with further questions, she attempts to practice patience, waiting to see if instead a third perhaps, that of him gathering his thoughts, would come to pass. Which it does, in due time. The answer, that he meant to explore the possibilities of what could be done and made, sends her mind into a whirl of possibilities. It is those possibilities that brings a thrum of excitement into her breast, a gleam to her gaze and a bounce to her step. "If I would venture a guess, it isn't that difficult to make a wisp of glass so light and fragile that it'd break at a bump. But to find the point where it won't break, be durable to different degrees. Harder to make armor that's light enough to wear, as opposed to something decorative that's strong enough to survive the regular wear and tear of everyday. But from what I know of what past Glaziers have made, and what you have made... I would guess that shape is confined only to your imagination." She wears a bright smile, and she gives a little giggle. "Have you thought of doing more artistic things? Color is a fascinating concept, but I wonder what sounds you could make glass make." Her mind whirls to memories of listening to the wind whistling through the tree branches, howling into the sea caves. Of the clank of hooves against the wall's upper surface, so different from the thump of soil, the clack of rock.

But her imagination is temporarily held back with his admission of not knowing Hellena. "You never saw her at Mother's meetings? She was the pure-white unicorn with cloven hooves and long tail. She always seemed to have an air of mystery and age, while never looking old enough." Incredulity had her peering at him, tasseled tail lightly switching toward his hocks in mock reprimand for never noticing the Moon's chosen voice. "I think you're right though, that Lady Moon informed or protected her somehow. I can't imagine her having died or something." But his comment, of not blaming anyone for running, delivered with such dark tones and a shudder of his body, had her curiosity humming again. Had it been that bad? As bad or worse than what the Wild Rose had feared it to become? Somehow she can't bring herself to ask that question, loathe to spark dark memories in her companion.

Bright news of the herd's wellbeing brings her away from dark musing, into a realm of happiness knowing that her assorted 'aunts', 'uncles', and 'cousins' were still tightly knit, even without her mother's Qian to stand as frame. There were new leaders to steer the way, who clearly must split the duties of leadership between them as Mirage had wished to do with Lace, before... everything. "Kaj is nice," She informs him with a smile. "He is one of Father's friends, and Mother trusted him as Wingleader, to protect us all with Destrier and the Protectors. I'm glad he's still taking care of the Edge." That much she knew, though she'd never really spent any real time with the big pegasus. But she knew of him more than she did of Kahlua, whom she couldn't gather any sort of comment about, positive or negative. But judging by the praise Dragomir had for the painted lady, the silver child merely hoped he didn't decide to prod her over that lapse.