I am most pleased. [Warm, lofty, another sip of her drink making Alia relaxed, looselimbed. It’s the closest she’s felt to imbibing the spice of home, and it has her speaking more candidly, more freely than perhaps she might’ve.]

I have them often – my home is desert, all sands, and no water to be found besides hidden pools and crags and what we can reclaim from the air and our own bodies. But I dream of the sea, home and here.

[Alia turns her strange, wide-eyed gaze on Quentin, the press of her mind careful, still, just skimming off the top of his emotions, his thoughts, plucking what she may from that.] I had a vision of a spark of light, a starchild, who fell to the sea and was found by a ship. The stars missed him so much, they gave him some of their light to dwell within him, while he was trapped on the waves.

[Meaningfully, Alia seeks out that spark within Quentin again, nuzzling against it like a purring cat.] I was just wondering what such a gift from the stars might be. Can you guess?