The original vampiric beliefs, no doubt, were passed down from the Sacred Ancestor before he disappeared. It's always felt somewhat religious to her, more so because of how it's been twisted and cast aside than the fundamental beliefs it's built on. She traces the edge of his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. This sorrow has made a nest in his chest and he will always see where they, as a people, failed.

"We do what we can," she agrees softly with a nod. What they cannot do, they must learn to live with.

Her attention drifts back toward the flames. They're smaller now. Slower but no less hungry. "Tell me about the first time you stepped into the sun here with your wings," she requests with a quick, curious glance up at him.