[There is no recognition in his gaze as he studies the scryglass, features lit in the glow of glyphs, but curiosity makes up the difference. To imagine so much could be divined from this source — it's a wondrous example of another world, something he would never have witnessed if he hadn't taken that first step off of Penacony's shoreline.

... A look darkens on his face in the next moment, something internally wounded, an imperceptible hurt. She wouldn't know why her statement is not a compliment to him, and so he chooses his words carefully.]

I apologize, but I'll have to refuse. Not because your power isn't magnificent to behold — I can only imagine what it would be like to learn the stars as you have. But... I've made mistakes in the past. While I may have value to you, it wouldn't be for any good reason.

[It's Not You, It's Me.]

I hope you can understand.