Aya closed her eyes, listening even as she rolled the wine over her tongue. It was, perhaps, fact that she'd often wondered how such as she had come from such as her father. A startling mother was...far different than the the image she'd been given from her father's shrine. "My father is a man born of land," she admitted, "But not shining. He he is drawn to those who live." As if that statement made sense.

Though...this man, Dilan, had known her father when he was young. It might be simple statement of fact for him.

"He has no drive since the loss of my mother. I do not know if any should hold another so deeply that they lose those parts of themselves that allows them to live. My uncle took me from my father, I was not given. He hoped to spare me such a slow decay as my father has fallen to without her."