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All her life, Nayati had shrouded herself in silence. She had been nearly mute, stumbling into the Threshold half-dead and bleeding out like a mockery of aesthetic beauty, of abstract art at the cost of her useless life. At least that would have been more beautiful, she often thought. Yet she had grown, found her niche, and through that budding confidence she had realized that she need not always be so silent. Even still, Vadim was a memory of what she used to be. Of course, they had their differences. Nayati had been close to mute out of shyness, a crippling self-doubt. Vadim, on the other side of the scale, was quiet out of stoicism from what she could gather. It was intriguing, to see a parallel to her, and yet warped to give a reverse image. Rathunax purred in her mind, clearly convinced this was further reason for them to be together, and Nayati internally rolled her eyes and sent him from her thoughts.

Vlasi's howling startles her, and she jerks away in a brief, aborted motion that sets her trinkets to music in her mane and tail. When she settles, she smiles to see the odd magical hound so happy. It makes her warm, even as her skin is chilled and her knees quiver with cold. Truly, she should not have been submerging herself in cold water when she was aware of her own terrible lung problems. Sincere words, few though they may be, flood into her listeners. Her heart positively melts, and her eyes grow embarrassingly moist as a tremulous smile grows to quiver on her lips like a dewdrop clinging to a leaftip. It is such a profound thing for her, to know that he sees her. She has lived her life as a ghost for so long that to be recognized, to be remembered, is almost beyond her wildest dreams.

"Thank you," she whispers, choked and emotional. Her pale lashes sweep and kiss her cheeks as she looks down, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of one of the few friends she had. He is clearly not one for emotional moments, and she does not want to make him feel uncomfortable, so she conceals herself away until is nothing but a little box. Hides away all those feelings of gratitude and relief until she can face him once more.

He moves away from her, and at first she fears she has scared him away, but he looks back at her and there is a clear gesture that brings her wobbling to his side on steadily numbing legs. He gestures beside him and she flushes with an intangible heat, suddenly shy and uncertain. "I-I wouldn't want to make you cold," she murmurs as she lowers herself down next to him, careful not to touch him and spread the wetness and cold to him. Her lungs are constricting unhappily, a reminder of her weakness, the weakness she'd been born with. She seizes and her cough is hoarse and sickeningly wet, blood coming to her lips in a foul, familiar taste of iron. She quickly wipes her maw against the grass, swallowing harshly before giving a closed-lip smile towards Vadim. Best not show her teeth, they were likely already stained. "Frostfall mating curse," she says with a bitter amusement, wishing she had the power to hate her parents.

She falls to silence, and she realizes with a sudden horror that she doesn't know what to say, and prays it will not turn awkward and force him away from her with her hanging silence.