I watched the pain in her eyes and linked it directly to my own I had felt before. The many times I had suffered death again and again. All in order to see just what my body could do. Really, it was miraculous and I had my masters to thank when it came down to it. I just wished the half god would stop doing it when I least expected it. It was why I was willing to have this conversation just now, so I could extend my time away from going back to the temple. Home.

That and … her. I needed to figure out my own thoughts. Just what had I killed back there, why did she know my name?

I dropped my view down to look at the injured hands. Pointing at them with a gloved claw I asked: “Healing?”

Her soft features looked confused at what exactly I meant. She held out her hands, slightly pushed out as if she was offering them to me to examine. I glanced at them but shook my head. I had no idea what to do with mortal flesh. It was clear I needed to add some pronouns and verbs.

“Are they healing?” I asked. “I don't know … flesh. Forgotten it.”

Her gaze fell to her hands, a small pink color danced across her cheeks. “Uhm- they will heal in time I suppose.”

Twice I nodded before pulling back my hand. I grunted, and then let my lungs empty of the last morsels air. It came out as a grunting sigh. Then I filled them back up, preparing them for their only use these days - speaking.

“Good. More music then.” Music was good, I decided in that moment. Like death and smells, it was good. Especially what this … McKinley played.

I found myself given a rare opportunity to examine one of the other people of this world. Aside from the demon, the half god (my masters, good blessings on them both) and the few mages and devoted servants that lived around the temple. Last time I had spoken to anyone it had been a halfling priest and that had gone … interesting would be one word for it.

I was determined to not let this chance go by me. First, I wanted to know more about her music. “You play … professionally?”

She nodded her head slowly, “I used to be a prized violinist, which is an instrument like this one but smaller. Looks exactly the same besides the size and sound.”

I looked down at the instrument she called a 'viola’ and eyed it's long, reddish length. Tight strings were wound between a small piece of wood and rods at the end of the longer, thinner part of the body. It seemed right to call it a neck, thus I did. I did not breathe as I observed the instrument, for I did not need to talk. I wondered if it unnerved her as my eyes went over to the long stave she had in her hand that had been pulled over those strings. The thought intrigued me, so I let my eyes look for longer, holding my whole body completely still before I looked back up at her.

“Never heard music,” I confessed.

The evidence of shock marred her innocent features, she tilted her head sideways in a way to see if I was joking. My silence gave her the answer that she obviously was looking for. “Wow, never heard music. I don’t mean to sound crass but where are you from that you have never heard music?” Her tone dripping with curiosity.

My shoulders lifted and fell. “Might have done once. But - not since I came back.” I fixed her with a steely look before my eyes fell. “Don't remember much.” I picked at the edge of my right glove, feeling that emotion people sometimes called 'awkwardness’.