Kire sat cross-legged, drinking slowly from her cup as he washed his face. She listened to his story, imagining the two gods, though she wasn’t used to hearing about the sun as the female aspect. The philandering male god, though, now [i]that[/i] was just typical. “Kartaian, Raielwen, Akarielwen, Jyavian, Taryn,” Kire repeated softly, though her tongue stumbled over the names. She fell silent again after that as he finished the story with Aera, the elf that had stayed with them in the Tunnels. She finished the rest of her coffee now that it wasn’t too hot. “I’ve always wondered,” she began, stretching her arms as she spoke, “how come whenever I am told a story about the origin of some thing or some race, it’s always about some gods being bloodthirsty bastards?” 

She looked out at the stream, thinking over the story, her fingers tapping on the cup. “Why is it always a tragedy with these myths?” she muttered. This didn’t help her opinion of the gods at all. But at least that’s another thing Amria and this world had in common. “This Aera must not have taken to you and Envy, if she hadn’t kept up a correspondence. Unless that’s just how these Raielwens are.” She frowned at that for a few moments. “So, if the Kartaians had long been this cruel, Envy’s a rare good egg. How’d he end up the way he did?—in Ziad, I mean, and also, you know, not a murderer. And if all elves are supposed to be immortal, does that mean Envy is, too?”