Something in Hadama seemed to soften a little at the pale woman's well-wishes for Safrin. It might have done so regardless of her race, but knowing that she was an Ancient and sworn to Dygra yet was still willing to hope for another god's recovery touched him. The weary mermanta inclined his head in gratitude for her kindness, but at her question he raised it again. He was silent for a time, considering her question and the meanings it held, though he seemed unbothered about whether the question was prying or not. He had certainly heard worse from those curious about Merfolk, and he accepted such things without rancor.
"She is the patron of all Torchline," he said slowly at last. "And I am her follower."
A pause, and his tired brain finally caught on to what had been tugging at his mental flukes for the past several minutes. "Forgive me. I have not asked your name," he admitted with a quietly dignified regret for the lapse in courtesy. "You are... familiar. But I do not remember from where."
"She is the patron of all Torchline," he said slowly at last. "And I am her follower."
A pause, and his tired brain finally caught on to what had been tugging at his mental flukes for the past several minutes. "Forgive me. I have not asked your name," he admitted with a quietly dignified regret for the lapse in courtesy. "You are... familiar. But I do not remember from where."
