If Ness is surprised by the idea that Gwenaëlle has actually been paying attention to her, it doesn't show much—a quick flick of her eyes to meet Gwen's, a wondering tilt of her head, no more. What's more important is acknowledging Gwen's point, even if her attention feels vastly more personally important.

"I'd thought maybe I could just be normal," rueful, looking off vaguely into an impossible, imagined future. "Avoid mages and their problems altogether and live somewhere remote, free."

It wouldn't work for a number of reasons, but knowing that didn't stop Ness wishing, vaguely.

"Before arriving here, I had no magic. I don't tend to think of myself as a mage, and it's not yet automatic to throw my lot in with them. Even if I couldn't do magic though," with a resigned huff, "rifter means we'll all be relying on each other sooner or later. Might as well make sure I'm more of a benefit than a liability."

Better they know what she can do, and how best to utilize her—even if she'd like to think the mage-templar war resurging isn't quite as inevitable as everyone acts like it is.

(The idea of making friends, confidants, confederates—it's completely passed her by. This is about usefulness and avoiding hardship for all parties, not getting people to care about her.)

There are a few mental calculations—uncle, present tense, magic, blood—that crystallize into theories (never assumptions) before Ness speaks.

"Do you hear from him often? Even with the war on pause, I can't imagine anyone appearing to do blood magic has it easy in the wider world."