"Everything depends on a certain point of view. I was told about places such as Kirkwall where there were-- extremes hardly feels like the right word, it still feels too small when human lives are involved." Such a waste. Such a waste of life and potential, and all that those people might ever have been, or done, a writhing bed of eels in her belly. She's glad to think about the Chant instead even when that still feels huge and utterly alien to her.

"Certain verses might help more than only being able to offer what comes from home when not everyone really likes or trusts a rifter. The more well-known ones at the very least." Nothing would ever turn her from the sea, not when it's in her blood but that's all she has: phrases that she has to explain to people, or remarks about playing the hand you're dealt, rolling the hard six. They aren't always spectacularly helpful here the way they would be at home, and it leaves her feeling useless more often than she'd like. "I can't say I have. The only singing I hear is my own when I'm practicing along with my lute; some areas of study require a great deal more catching up when you come from so very far away."

Normally she wouldn't skirt around saying the word bard but when she doesn't know who might be listening to them, even here it might not be a word to throw around lightly.