A short nod. Makes perfect sense. "In some versions of the tale I had heard, they were the last pieces of jewelry remaining of her mother, who had passed. A ring and a necklace, most commonly."
A breath. The harder question, then:
"And her benefactor with the mysterious name -- which is different and harder to spell in every version," Rook hedges. "What are they, in the Nevarran tale?"
"Ah!" Emmrich looks a little embarrassed at the question. "That actually varies depending on who is telling the story. But due to Nevarrans being a tad on the insular side, for the most part, I've mostly heard names that are meant to sound like words in languages other than Common. Typically Orlesian, if memory serves. The longer and more complicated the name the storyteller invents, the more impressive sounding the tale."
"Oh forgive me, yes!" Emmrich laughs at his mistake, touching Rook's shoulder lightly in apology. "I've heard demon used, I believe the version my mother told used demon. But because of our spirit work in the Necropolis, I more often heard just creature. Something of unknown origins.
When one is raised around spirits, it doesn't do well to insult them, does it?"
The color that finds his cheeks is momentary, and hopefully missed as Emmrich offers his answer. Not just the touch, Rook realizing the moment caught him -- the easy laugh, the way the lights in the sky dance across the man's features.
Maybe something that feels like a vote of optimism for the many-faced subject of the story.
"Demon means...something very different back home. Devil. Imp. Fae." None of which he has ever really heard uttered on this plane. "All terms I have seen used to describe him before in different versions. Sometimes it's kept ambiguous. The only thing that ever remains the same is that he spins straw into gold, and in nearly as many, that the last thing he demanded for his aid was the woman's firstborn child."
"Oh how interesting! Not very common words, I don't know that I've heard fae at all. But as I said, Nevarra tends to keep to itself, culturally speaking, so that doesn't surprise me. Perhaps I'll learn more in my travels."
He ruminates for a moment, before gently bumping his shoulder against Rook's with a small, encouraging small. "Maybe next time we're trading stories, you can share that one."
The expression that mirrors back is equally small, untried. That is such a simple, casual gesture, but still internally, something significant. It's normal -- not necessarily human, but a piece of being a person. Sometimes, he forgets he's those things, too.
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A breath. The harder question, then:
"And her benefactor with the mysterious name -- which is different and harder to spell in every version," Rook hedges. "What are they, in the Nevarran tale?"
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"I should have been more specific, excuse me. I meant the nature of the beast itself, not the name."
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When one is raised around spirits, it doesn't do well to insult them, does it?"
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Maybe something that feels like a vote of optimism for the many-faced subject of the story.
"Demon means...something very different back home. Devil. Imp. Fae." None of which he has ever really heard uttered on this plane. "All terms I have seen used to describe him before in different versions. Sometimes it's kept ambiguous. The only thing that ever remains the same is that he spins straw into gold, and in nearly as many, that the last thing he demanded for his aid was the woman's firstborn child."
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He ruminates for a moment, before gently bumping his shoulder against Rook's with a small, encouraging small. "Maybe next time we're trading stories, you can share that one."
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"I'll consider it, and try to think of others."