—Huh. That was definitely a thing that happened. But when Astrid casts her mind back trying to remember it, she just sees: herself, alone on the beach with the griffon, working through the exercises and drills. She hadn’t had company, had she?

Just her, the beach, the bird. (And that telling blank spot, which should have been someone keeping her company, throwing things for her, then sparring with her after.)

In that too-long pause, Clarisse can practically see Astrid’s confused gears turning and not being able to land on a satisfactory answer, or anything that makes sense. Why would this total stranger know such a small, banal thing from a beach party months ago?

She exhales, a frustrated huff of air through her nose. “Sorry. Like… that’s true, all of that is right, but I still don’t know you. If this is magic, then fuck magic.”