Temptation is a dangerous creature, and especially for mages, she had been taught. Desire demons haunting sleep, emotions ever in need of checking. Herian is wonderful at control of what reaches past the surface. It is what boils under her skin that is more risky, and all she can feel now is the thrum of her pulse and the awareness of how easily she might end this distance between them. Instead, almost idly, her hand raises just enough that the back of her hand can trail lightly along the arm that holds a contact point with Herian. Casual and light in a way that Herian is never casual and light any more.

"I've not yet ventured to the hedge maze. I am not sure my knightly pride could withstand the indignity of being trapped by shrubs, no matter how extensive." A rare moment of easier wit and humour, smile a little brighter to echo the Comtesse's own. "Perhaps I will hazard my dignity for the sake of the fountain, regardless."

She wishes sometimes that she had things to remember her homes by, Starkhaven and the White Spire, both. They had been so essential to the sculpting of her, and yet she carried barely a thing of either that were not written on her skin. Most things, though, had come from other matters; they were not either home that marked her, but darker memories that circled them.