( Something in Mydei's chest moves at the way Phainon's fingers trace the tattoos over his chest, though he cannot think of what or why. But it pulls his attention away from the matter at hand more than he would confess to, even as the sense of belonging and peace works its way into his skin, past muscle and bone to settle at the burning core of him. 'Home' has never meant much to him -- as wandering and aimless as the city he should call it. That belongs to people, a feeling. This feeling in his chest now. Surely it is simply because Phainon is the closest person here to him, in this strange land. That must be it. )

Don't ask such stupid questions. ( No, he admits to himself, this is a conversation and experience he would only want to have with the Deliverer. ) What have you learned that's made you even worse at hiding your true feelings? I told you that I didn't need to be a mind reader to know that something is eating you.

( Once again his eyes flutter shut, a deep breath that brings him back to himself. It's easy to get lost in the touch, the trust, and Mydei lets himself indulge. Strife itself has felt muted ever since his arrival, but Phainon's touch sends the dregs of the rage into the corners of his mind. Peace. The feeling has him relaxing further, head falling to the side on reflex to offer this: his trust, and more skin for Phainon to run his fingers over, to give them both the moment to fully submerge themselves in the feeling he doubts either of them have much experience with. )

The Goldweaver, for one. ( He might chafe at Aglaea's methods, but he also respects her for it -- sometimes one must make unpopular decisions and choices for the betterment of others, and she has shouldered them for centuries. ) If there is anyone who can feel out a new world as quickly as her, I've yet to encounter them.