"You could humor me a little," she chides him, though she lacks the vibrancy for a proper ribbing. He likely knows a stalling tactic when he sees one--or perhaps his people were too mindful to try it, boring as she remembers them being. At least he indulges her in a sip of tea while she gathers her thoughts up like wildflowers in her hands, even as she lacks a vase to put them in.

"I would begin--traditionally--by laying the foundation of my story with Once Upon a Time. But time has not flown traditionally, and my tale could be both distant or recent by different measures. Instead, I will simply say, that this tale begins on a beach--with a daring young knight and his gentle lady. They find a likeness in each other, in their solitude and in their innocence. Their kingdoms will be at war one day, but that day has not yet dawned. Thus... he invites her home."

Her hand encircles around her cup, but she doesn't lift it to her lips. She only inspects the surface of the liquid with far more intention than she's given to his face. The words shake free a little easier, when she speaks them into a teacup, couched in a fairy-tale. "It is... a pleasant dwelling. Their needs are attended to--food and shelter, and most importantly the company kept. He brushes her hair for her and makes a mess of it, though there's kindness in the trying. A third joins their number, wild-eyed and curious, too feral for knighthood but no less enchanting. I hear, as the story goes, that he prefers wolves to spiders."