The sentiments are familiar, as if pulled from Ness's own thoughts—doesn't she miss Candlekeep, after all, miss Vazeiros, for all that she wouldn't go back? Simplicity, not for lack of options, but for the clarity of expectation. Behave like this, accept these limitations, don't ask for more. Do the some for the rest of your life and you'll be safe, you'll be fed, you'll have purpose.

You'll never have love, or belonging. Your world will be small. But you'll have more than many get, even so.

It's a bitter feeling, to long for something fully cognizant of its poison. To see the cage clearly for what it is, and to, despite it all, wish earnestly for the bars.

"I understand," she says, and leaves it at that.

As to magical education—she sighs, thoughts dark on war and what's neglected in its interest. Her eyes light up after a moment though, just a little, and she turns to Julius, cautiously hopeful.

"Have you—has anyone considered starting a school, maybe? Not a Circle, but a proper school. Teach children control and respect for their power, love for their community..."

Surely someone has thought of it by now, and there are reasons it hasn't happened, but... What if they haven't? What if everyone's assumed the outcome, so no one's even tried?