Eln took the wine skin with gratitude. "Yes," he said with a startling amount of enthusiasm for such a stoic man. He took a hearty swig and handed it back to her, nodding his thanks. "Thank you. I...I needed." And he did. The longer he waited, the more this indecision weighed on him, and though he was uneasy at the idea of relinquishing control, drink had long been his last and best escape. And...whatever this drink was, it was strong. "It is good," he commented, and turned back to watch the foreign ritual with equal parts curiosity and bewilderment.
At-Id spoke up again, and he smiled ever so slightly, but he did not reply for a long while. When he did, his thoughts had drifted downstream, and the alcohol — the first that he had had in years — had loosened his tongue. "I do not know," he said. "This — " he gestured at the couple — "it is like home, and not like home. Different. More blood. More..." he sought the word but did not know it. "And it...it never for me," he added instead. He turned to his friend. "But it for you? You cut your man, when he do this?"
