There is a frown playing at his lips, but Rowan does not delve into it, though she wishes to. She always wishes to. Yet she can't, for she has never understood emotions. They are chemicals in the brain, such simple science, and yet she could not understand how they were so finnicky and flighty. It troubled her, made her want to scream and throw her head against a rock until she could think no more. She felt that way quite a lot, actually. So when she saw it she changed her line of sight to the horizon, knowing it would drive her insane trying to figure out how he was feeling. A weight fell in her chest, settling there until she could hardly breathe. You are a freak Rowan. You know that, no matter what he says. You might as well just disappear. You were better off alone, so why did you seek out others? They will never accept you.

Thankfully it is then that he begins to speak, and she is snapped out of her thoughts. Rowan chided herself internally for letting her internal musings go so black- it is always dangerous for her to do that, for her mind is a machine that has no problem tearing apart its container, for that is what it does best. Dissect. And it will one day dissect her until there is nothing left but agony, and she will take her own life. Rowan hopes she dies of age before that happens. He speaks, and she listens. That was always how the world worked for her. He did not tell her what she desired; directions, paces, lengths. Even so she imagined it as vividly as she could in her head given what he said. It was imperfect and always would be, but at least it was something to sate her mind. It would do, and so she did not interrupt.

Though she did have to admit that Quilyan definitely had a way with words. He may not give her information, but he spun a world around her that was full of color that was normally out of her reach. It was not something she could dissect, having not seen it, and her eyes took on a look of awe as she gazed at him, trapped in the bubble his words had created. Only once his speech ended did she finally find the wherewithal to look away and contemplate his words. "It is not a stretch of my imagination to know that it was likely a very beautiful place. I am sure Helovia does not match up to its splendor," she laughed softly, the closest she could come to a joke or tease. "Thank you for telling me, Quilyan, you did not have to entertain me in such a way and yet you did. Truly, you have my thanks, as well as my word that I would have loved to have seen it." It was a silly thing to think, she knew she would never see it and that was why she used past tense. In a past time, or if an opening ever did appear, she certainly wished to see these faces he had spoken of. But she did not hail from a beautiful world, and could not understand. She had lived in a landscape filled with sand and rock, hardly any vegetation. All it was, all around, was sand and sky and heat. It was an ugly place, but she guessed that they all had dark things in their past no matter how beautiful the place.

[[God so sorry for how late this is! Rowan ran away from me muse-wise]]