"Ah, well in that case, thank you." He runs a hand through his hair, where the tiny flowers are slowly beginning to bloom again.

Her next statement is completely unexpected. "I - your...?" Her words stir a memory that had come to him while dreaming, of sisters-not-sisters, a circle of four who were one. Fire and lightning and new growth spun together like yarn to create something new, something never seen before and probably never to be seen again.

His left hand flies to his right palm, feeling for a circular gap in the vines, as he stares at the girl, his open mouth a mirror of hers. "I don't know your face, but... I remember sisters," he says, slowly, searching her face for clues.