"Do me a favor and put that in writing then send it to Ravonild, if you would." She's spent years reminding Aleron that he's 'duller than a butter knife' and unlikely to recognize any brand of excitement tied to her twin's life. Although perhaps in some perspectives she's right. His life is not exciting if the lack of social engagements and fine frippery is any measure.

He sits back in his seat and expels a long breath. Not truly a sigh, but close. Honesty is always a best policy as far as he is concerned. (Burying feelings notwithstanding.) "I think about it a great deal," he admits. Brooding is what his mother would call it, as would anyone who's known him a decent amount of time. The brooding is almost legendary. "I'd never wanted to join. My whole life until I was sent to the Templars, I'd been told that I was meant to keep my sisters safe." A scoff comes out of its own volition. "Until last year, I couldn't have picked my sisters out of a crowd. Layla was three when they packed me off."

There's a shrug of one shoulder as he considers what Malcolm broached. "But you're right. I don't think any of us really start out looking to be a Seeker. The number of people I know who sought it out was..." Aleron holds up a hand to count them and then after realizing he can think of none, flicks it in dismissal of the count. "None. I can think of none. Maybe Lord Seeker Lambert?"