A soft breath succumbs and relishes the hot air. He merely matches her smile by the charcoal on his lips. Worn as they may be, rough, resist the near urge to crack and bleed.

Helovia. He has never heard of this realm before. It is strange to him because there have been many souls who have travelled longer roads, and none that have claimed this world. How far had he truly gone? It no longer mattered. Helovia it would be.

Had Lúthien been more capable of himself, more than the bleary drawn effects of dehydration numbing against his skull, perhaps he would ask more questions. Of which might have been of these creatures Lena spoke of, what status the world was in and so on… was it always this hot in the summers? His busy mind would take command, but this was not the case. He dipped his head for the sake of formalities, his neck stinging in protest as she introduced herself. He could have cared less about this condition; instead he was thankful for her invitation and met her gaze with humble expression. There was indeed a pride he had hoped to keep, in a way that might restore his sullied dignity from days beyond… but in the low glow of his eyes he was truly tired. Instead of the brokenness that may have filtered through in that moment, a tired, weary soul assumed a meek stance.

“Lena…” He could never hope to possess someone by their name, he never sought to. In his mind her face would etch into his memory, her name in itself a second wind, an afterthought. The movement and actions of individuals always contorted fairly well into his psyche, giving whole bodied personages to the names that filtered into his memory. A swift glance dances upon the metallic creature, curiosity willing him to break his silence and reveal himself, though silence would have its way. He is back to her all the same, as his voice forges onwards.

“…of World’s Edge. I would be indebted to join your band.”

It was a lie. He knew he wanted to go back, even though he had abandoned them; all of them. Thought he could erase the past, but it was very much a part of him as was his limbs, his heart and lungs. Was he even talking any more, or had the irate animal –preparing itself to fight all means to survive- take this opportunity to save itself, himself? Indeed, he required water, food, shelter… but a home? His eyes did not forsake his tongue; his body did not flinch or tense with each syllable of every word. They may have been venom in his mind; they rang true and sincerely into the air.