Xanadu Weyr - Clock Tower
The walls of the tower are the same dark gray stones that make up the outside of the tower. The central portion of the structure is open, so that one may stand in the center of the structure and see the top. Well…almost the top. A ceiling cuts off the view to whatever it is that's at the very top of the tower. Very little light comes in, just tiny beams of light from the arrow-slits in the walls. The floor is of dark hardwood slats, thin enough to have been worked easily but thick enough to provide protection from insects and wildlife that might be trying to get in.

A wooden staircase is built along wall, one that spirals up and up around the inner wall of the structure. It leads a workshop, where along every wall there are…clocks, of course! Clocks of just about every configuration one could think of, and quite a few that are outlandish enough to escape one's consideration at first. While most of these clocks are working, there are more than a few of them that aren't. The gentle ticking sounds fill the space, the clocks almost always perfectly in sync with each other- -and with the ticking from the movement of the big clock above- -and the sounds mingling together to form an ordered cacophony of sounds.

Clock parts are strewn across a table in one corner. There are a couple of cabinets with parts in them like the ones downstairs- -parts that are significantly smaller than those on the first floor. These are obviously for the smaller clocks that are built here. There are no less than two large grandfather clocks in this workshop, both working.

A thick support threads through a large hole in the center of the floor, extending from below to above. A chain hangs beside it too, anchored high above, and the spiral staircase continues up, past a door on the outside and on to more storage space, dedicated to piles of crates with springs and "little" parts for the clocktower's main movement. Of course, the word "little" may not be the best way to describe it; some of these springs and levers are longer than a man's arm. And some of the gears in these crates a man could actually put his arm through the middle of easily.

It's a pleasant summer evening in the weyr. Not quite twilight, but with a pleasant breeze coming off the ocean to cool the day's heat. Most of the weyr's residents are flocking to the caverns for the evening meal, but not everyone is in the mood for the mealtime rush of people and noise. N'on, in particular, tends to take his meals elsewhere, and today is no exception. At the top of the clock tower, past the spiral staircase, there's a small door that opens out onto a platform with a view of the weyr. N'on is currently resting there, half-eaten pastry on a napkin nearby, nursing a glass of wine while watching the approaching sunset.

That Stefyr isn't among the crush for dinner might raise some brows on those who are used to the man being one large, blond fixture with mountainous plate present at the start of the meal hour (the better to fill his plate fast and get to the serious business of eating). But since it proves to be his heavy boot falls on the steps and stepping out onto the platform, he's obviously conspicuously absent from the usual place he occupies at this hour. Upon seeing someone already occupying the space, the blond man looks ready to duck right back out of sight, his expression lined with… worry? Puzzlement? Something that wants a quiet place for reflection anyway. "Sor-" is already out of his mouth for disturbing another's reflection, and "-ry," finishes the word, but he lingers in that doorway when his blue gaze settles on the greenrider. "Up for company?" He asks instead of ducking back away. "I'm pretty sure I'm not very good company, but…" He wants to stay if N'on is open to it.

The heavy footfalls on the stairs are kind of hard to miss, but by the surprised look on N'on's face, Stefyr is not exactly what he was expecting. It passes quickly enough, replaced by a little smile and a welcoming gesture. He makes a point of scooting over on the platform to make some metaphorical room for the candidate, by way of invitation. Since it's Xanadu, he even nudges the bottle of wine to be in reach, just in case Stefyr wants some.

Blue eyes flick to the offered bottle, and a wan smile heralds a heavy breath grabbed and released that is just short of a sigh. He settles cross-legged near the greenrider, but doesn't reach for the bottle, explaining, "Lost my privileges. Back at Turnover. After the Hatching…" Maybe he'll be allowed to drink again then. He shrugs his broad shoulders. And here's where he could talk more, but after a thoughtful look at the other man he shifts his knees a little higher so he can loop his arms loosely around them and just looks out at the sky. Not an uncomfortable silence. Just a silence. Companionable, perhaps. Stefyr will probably find words in time, but maybe they're not needed yet.

N'on gives a sympathetic little nod, and perhaps in some sort of show of solidarity, he finishes the last bit in his glass and then tucks bottle and glass away and out of sight. He folds his arms over his knees, and though he's not exactly uncomfortable in the silence, he does occasionally give a glance at Stefyr out of the corner of his eye. Just observing. Waiting, to see if something else is coming.

Stefyr's eyes are drawn by that tucking away, and there's a little smile but shake of his head. N'on is free to N'on it up. He hasn't broken any rules, after all. But he doesn't verbally press the issue. When something finally does come from Stefyr, it's probably the least expected of all possible questions. "How did you know that what you felt for V'ayn was different from what you felt from others? That you wanted… just him." And by necessity, the younger man glances to the older, his cheeks tinged with pink, but not a raging blush. If it looks like N'on's going to write rather than sign, he'll go back to staring at that sky, expression thoughtful and a little inward, not in the least impatient.

Once again, Stefyr has surprised N'on with a question he's never needed to answer before. As usual, it takes some time to compose a response, and he pulls out his trusty notebook to do the job. There's quite a bit of writing, erasing, rewriting, and general composition work… But eventually he hands over a note and goes back to watching the sunset while Stefyr reads. "I didn't, at first. I just knew he was beautiful, and that I didn't have a chance with someone like him. Then we got trapped up on AIVAS together, and I didn't have any paper. I wasn't supposed to be there. He couldn't sign. I think the mystery was part of the appeal for him? But when I got to know him, he made me angry a lot. He wanted to help, but he would do things like give me things to hold so I couldn't sign, and then talk for me. Or hold my hands. One day, I just got so angry, and I couldn't do anything but play charades to explain it to him. I think that's when I knew. Because he didn't get angry back, or laugh at me. He didn't get better right away, but he tried to change. Changing is hard, and most people don't care enough to try. I think that's when I fell in love with him."

Normally, normally, Stefyr is dutiful in reading a note all the way through before he responds to anything It's polite, the equivalent of not interrupting. But this evening, something has him rattled internally enough that he can't help a frustrated huff after the first couple sentences, his empty hand coming to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "That doesn't help me," not that it's N'on's job to help him, but insight is evidently what Stefyr is after, as much as getting to know his friend a little better. "He's beautiful. He's beautiful," a different he. The first might've been V'ayn? "She's beautiful, she's beautiful, you're beautiful. He's beautiful." No, maybe that last one was V'ayn in the list that makes beauty sound obnoxious. Maybe to Stefyr it sort of is, since it doesn't seem to separate the emotional wheat from the chaff. That's a lot of beauty in the eyes of one man. And was N'on on that list? Mmmhm. Stefyr rubs his face, not even aware just this moment of his company and looks at the note again to keep reading. "He… took… your…" Those aren't the words that the greenrider wrote, but that's what Stefyr is getting and even though he doesn't say voice, it's there to be heard in a tone of astonishment that probably is a precursor of some kind of unpleasant judgment. It's not one he holds long though, because he shakes his head and moves on. He finishes the note in silence, nodding slowly. "I'm glad it worked for you," is real, but a little flat. He folds this note and tucks it away in his own pocket. If V'ayn is guilty of stealing N'on's voice, then Stefyr will be guilty of stealing his words, this time. His arms release his knees so that his hands can go to the back of his own neck and interlace there a moment before he's pressing his fingers into the tense muscles there, trying to relieve something. He's silent again. Maybe the next question will come as unexpectedly as the last.

N'on watches Stefyr with that round-eyed look he sometimes get. Dumbfounded is probably a good description. "She?" N'on signs. Well, he signs 'girl' but the context is clear, ok. Then dumbfounded turns to just slightly amused bafflement. "Me?" An eyebrow goes way up at that, along with a crooked little grin. It would be a fair bet that he assumes Stefyr misspoke about that. He doesn't protest the stealing of the words, aside from that cocked eyebrow. He simply signs, "Love is complex." Then he looks back at the sunset, giving Stefyr the space he needs to think.

Well, N'on can think that for all of maybe five seconds because Stefyr scoots around so he's facing the older man. "You. V'ayn. Five or five hundred others. I mean, I didn't have a lot of exposure to people that weren't my family, but my—" his what. That frustrated look again and one hand leave his neck to shove roughly through his hair. "Shell." How does he even- Maybe he can't. He makes a growl low in his chest and his hands come down on his knees with enough force to make a small slapping sound. "Attraction seems like a lousy starting place for figuring out who to kiss and who not." Then his chin settles in his fists, elbows now on knees, and he looks glum. It's a good problem to have, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating a thing for him. "I can't even flirt right. I do things that might be flirting and don't know it. And-" And what. He doesn't even know. He blows air through his lips, sounding more like a runner than a man. "I give up." Basically. "Maybe I'll just impress a dragon and then I can love them and ignore all the rest except for flights." Only that's a wildly made suggestion in the heat of the moment because hands scrubbing across his face in the next moment give away that that simply isn't a realistic option. He's too frustrated to just let something like that go.

N'on can't help that his deep sympathy is slightly tempered by a badly-suppressed amusement. "I'm not," he signs, emphatically. He even gives a pluck at the sleeve of his plain and slightly work-worn leathers as though that demonstrates anything. Apparently this conversation requires alcohol after all, because he pours another glass of wine, has a drink, then sets it down before continuing. "Kiss someone," he signs. "Mess up. Be wrong. Make people angry, and try to do better. Take chances. All you can do. It's not as bad as it feels."

Stefyr gives his greenriding companion the blankest look. "Look. I already not-argued about this with Katailea. I see what I see. You are attractive to me. She is attractive to me. This is my sharding problem. I think if I had to list all the people I find personally appealing, we would be here all night. You don't have to believe me and neither does she, but I see what I see." And having said that about as forcefully as he ever seems to say anything, he's letting that topic fall with the profound silence that might precede the felling of a very large tree in the forest. Only then he adds, "And in the least, V'ayn must agree with me, so two to one, you're out voted." If Stefyr gets a vote. If V'ayn gets one, even. Anyway, he sighs. "I'm already kissing someones. I'm already messing up. Getting it wrong. I don't even have to be kissing people to understand I'm getting into things that might really hurt people I care about. And all because I can't seem to figure out how it's different to have attractive to me friends and attractive to me friends that I wouldn't kiss given the chance." And we're back to glum. "Ugh. I want to skip to the end where I know what I'm doing and haven't hurt anyone in the process." The process sucks. It sucks. He's not even into it really, and it already sucks.

N'on blinks rapidly, but then all he can do is lift a shoulder in a vague shrug. There does come a point when protesting a compliment becomes unseemly… So he picks up his wine and has a drink. He considers Stefyr's problem for a moment or two, and then sets the wine glass down again, freeing up his hands to sign, "Kissing multiple someones?" He has an oddly non-judgemental way of holding himself, for someone born in a hold. Must be all those years exposed to dragons. "Do the someones know about the multiple?"

It's a terrible sign that Stefyr has to stop and think in order to answer. "Shit," isn't the yes or the no expected, but it's a form of 'no' all the same. See? He did claim he was already messing things up. His face hides in his big hands a moment before he rubs it again. "How do you have that conversation? Have you ever…?" Had to have the conversation, presumably he means. Maybe he just means kissing multiple someones. "I was feeling, not thinking," is a mumbled excuse that maybe he needed to hear even if N'on didn't need an explanation. "I don't … I don't want to kiss and tell. My brothers, some of them, used to. And I…" A hard swallow translates tension into his face. "It's not for me. The details, I mean."

N'on still looks at least a little sympathetic. He even reaches over to pat Stefyr on the shoulder, even if it's kind of an awkward gesture. "Never the opportunity," he signs. And he can't really help the little grin that returns, and he winks in a way that is most definitely at least slightly prompted by wine. He waves off any need for details, but goes back to the notepad. He scrawls out a note, then hands it over. "Depends on who you're kissing. Some weyrbred take kissing multiple people as matter of course. Some holdbred don't even hold hands without implied commitment. It's difficult."

N'on's wink gets him a grin. "But you have V'ayn, so." That makes N'on the lucky one, as these confusions go. Stefyr takes a moment to contemplate the greenrider's response when he finishes reading. "Yeah. I-… I got that wrong. At home. I thought holding hands with my best-friend meant… more. Since I've been here, everything… I mean, everyone just touched one another, just because. Not with any intent or promises or anything. And it just… I mean, I like that. I like touching people. I like it not being an offense to touch someone I care about just because they're attached to someone else because it doesn't have to mean that, not here. But I… I figured out it can be confusing." That makes him look a little sad, but such are the hazards of life. "I could see about at tattoo." He says after a moment, one hand moving to tap his forehead, suggesting location, "'Touches Without Intent Until He Doesn't.'" It's one possibility. "A lot of letters though. I could just go with 'Idiot'." Cue a sigh.

N'on doesn't look much more enlightened than he was at the beginning of the conversation, though he's doing his best. Smiling sympathetically and nodding at the appropriate intervals. "Not an idiot," he signs. Then he retreats back to the comfort of paper and pencil, scrawling another quick note to pass over. "You're not stupid. Romance is hard. V'ayn got mad at me once because I wouldn't fight with him. Maybe start at the beginning with what happened? Change the names, maybe?"

"Why wouldn't you fight with him?" Stefyr has to ask after he's read. "You fight with me without any problem." That gets an amused smile that acknowledges what a vast gulf there is between himself and the greenrider's weyrmate. The note is read a second time and then he taps it gently on his knee before offering it back. "It's… mine." Then, almost immediately, "That sounds weird." He's going to try to make more sense, he really is. He takes a breath. "It's…" STILL NOT A FULLY FORMED IDEA. He tries again, "If it were you I were kissing, I would want to keep it to myself. Not because you're weyrmated, or because secrets could be exciting, or because I was bothered by the notion of anyone knowing that I was kissing you, but because whatever there was between you and I is just that. Between you and I. And it's not just kissing." His words are coming faster, with less thought behind what he's saying as though he's feeling his way along an unfamiliar path. "It's flirting, too. Or anything that might cross some line between what's friends and what other people would see as more. It's not even… I have a hard time calling it more or less, just a different friend, a different person, my relationship unique to them. I don't need these labels people seem to like." He shrugs a little helplessly. "I don't want to share even with changed names not because I don't trust you, because I do," just in case it needed to be said, "but because whatever's happening between me and a particular person is mine. I'm the only one that gets to hold that memory, those experiences, and they're…" precious, "important to me. I didn't understand that. At first." And then, he tilts his head at the other former farmer. "On the farm, there was shame in the idea of infidelity, of loving more than one person. I didn't understand it beyond knowing it was something that simply was so. I feel like it might be true there, but a lie here. I don't feel ashamed for feeling more for more people than just one. Should I?" N'on, moral guide.

N'on rolls his eyes. "Don't fight with either," he emphasizes, via sign. "State the truth. You fight with yourselves." He smirks a little, in that self-depricating way he sometimes has, and then picks up the wine glass when it's clear the ensuing explanation is going to be a long one. He listens while sipping, head slightly tilted but not in disagreement. In the end, he carefully sets his wine glass down, and goes back to the notepad. "Sorry. I know some things are private. I only asked because it seemed like you were coming to me for advice. It's not wrong to love more than one person. But it's wrong to lie to people you love, but there are worse wrongs you can do. Can't say more without knowing more." He finishes off the wine glass after handing over that note, and refills the glass with the last of the bottle. He seems a little surprised that the bottle is finished off, and blinks bemusedly at it.

Laughter rolls from Stefyr as he reads the signs from the greenrider, the sound loosening some of the tight muscles in his face. "Ahhh, now I see," is all he says with a grin that says he completely disagrees but he isn't about to fight with himself about it right now. When he takes up the note from N'on, his eyes come back up before he's done reading, "I am. Or, well, advice…" His head bobs left and right in dissatisfaction with the word. "Insight." It's a little different. "It's hard to be alone in my head with all these things, and I don't have a lot of… unbiased outlets." All those complicated friendships. "I don't want to lie to anyone." He concludes after he finishes the note. "I'm not… like that. Lying needs a good reason. And it seems like the truth would be easier even when it's hard. Maybe I'd be better off just not kissing anyone until after the hatching." He briefly runs teeth across his lower lip in some sign of nerves or indecision. "Were things… settled between you and V'ayn when Zhelinath shelled?"

N'on swallows another bit of wine with a smirk that meets that grin and entirely refuses to capitulate. He shrugs slightly at the idea of not kissing anyone, not seeming entirely impressed by it, but he doesn't argue with it either. Instead, he's back to the note writing, this time scrawling one-handed with his knee supporting the notepad, while keeping the final glass of wine in hand. He tears it off and hands it over. "We were settled, and then I was Searched. Things were unsettled for a while. Sometimes they're still unsettled. I had to learn not to just agree with him if I wasn't happy. It's a process. But mostly yes."

Blond brows dip down as he reads over the note, twice, and then Stefyr's blue eyes rise to search N'on's face, something a little confused, maybe a little sad in his own, but mostly confused. "Let me fight with myself if you ever are tempted to agree with me that way. Please." It's not like he assumes N'on would, or would know if he was, but… "I don't like thinking of you going along with something if you're not happy with it. Seems… shitty." Blunt but accurate of the young man's opinion. "It works for you? And V'ayn, I mean. The collective you. To be with just one another outside flights?" He's probably asking because he works closely with two examples where that's not the weyrmating arrangement.

N'on rolls his eyes a little, and returns to the notepad again. "I don't go along just because it's easy. It's because sometimes I love him more than I care about myself. Because it's something not important enough to see him unhappy. But then it makes him mad if he thinks I'm just going along. Defeats the purpose." He hands the note over with a rueful shrug. Once Stefyr has a chance to read it, he adds a signed answer to the last questions. "Works for me. Mostly."

"Mostly?" is the easier part for the candidate to question, so he does that first. Then Stefyr gives the note its second read and he taps it again on his thigh as he did with one before, then offers it back. "It sounds like a different kind of confusing and complex to navigate." He presses his lips briefly together, "It seems like it would be … sort of hard, to be so close with someone and not be in their head." He raises his brows in question, "Harder or easier than being with Zhelinath?"

N'on lifts a shoulder, but smirks slightly. "Jealousy," he signs, then taps his chest and rolls his eyes a little, no doubt at himself. "Holder," he adds, then shrugs with a 'whatdyagonnado?' expression on his face. The last bit causes the self-conscious smile to fade a little. Apparently it's not an easy question to answer, and before he can, Zhelinath weaves her way into the conversation, on a whisper-thread of smoke. « I am a delight. » And then she's gone again, so quickly it could be chalked up to imagination, except that N'on is left rolling his eyes and grinning. On one of the previous notes, he scribbles another explanation and passes it over. "Just different. V'ayn and I don't always understand. Zhelinath is too much sometimes. I get lost in her, if I don't stand up for myself."

Stefyr must be acclimated to dragon intrusion because he does pause, visibly, at the sound of a possibly imagined voice and looks to N'on before he's laughing again, smile bright and lighting his eyes. "No doubt." He agrees gravely after clearing his throat to assume a serious enough expression to go with the words. He takes the note and reads. But when he speaks, it's first about the jealousy, "Does V'ayn's dragon win many flights? Or he just attracts admirers? I mean, if he feeds them in addition to just being," he carefully forms the signed name for V'ayn's name that had to be explained to him once because the starting letter is no longer the same as what it was, that combines the letter with the sign for beautiful, because that really is the most fitting end to that sentence that could exist, even with his option for words. And then, Zhelinath. "Does she help you stand up for yourself or is it more like… carrying water buckets - you keeping your balance in the middle of two forces that might pull you one way or the other?" It's probably a feeling any two former farmers can share.

N'on lifts a shoulder. "I try not to think about it," he signs, with another little smirk. "I trust V'ayn. He does love me." The last is signed with careful emphasis. As for Zhelinath, it's another question that isn't easily answered, and he waves his hand vaguely, as though he might physically pluck the answer out of the thin air. Finally, he sits down and writes what turns out to be practically an essay in explanation. "It's more like trying to ride a sweet-tempered but powerful runner who doesn't know her own strength. The WLMs didn't understand what was happening, so I had to figure it out for myself. Many weyrlings struggle to separate their mind from their dragon's in the beginning, but with Zhelinath, I sometimes forgot we weren't one being in two bodies. She has a very strong will. I would talk with her voice, not realizing, and she would talk with mine. She never saw the point of being separate, so if I don't stand up for myself, she will trample me. Even so, when she's emotional it's nearly impossible. I never got the hang of flights, except to hide at the first sign of glowing." As he hands over this rather lengthy note, he signs a 'sorry'. He'll just finish off that last glass of wine while Stefyr reads, and leave it sitting next to the forgotten half of his unfinished dinner.

"Ah," Stefyr clues in with a scrunch of his face. "Sorry." It's silent self-chastisement that brings his fist up to his forehead to touch there in sign for 'dumb'. Maybe if Stefyr chose his own name sign, it would be an S with that. He seems to be feeling it. "Shouldn't have asked like that." But there's easy distraction to grab in the way N'on apologizes and he shakes his head. It's an unconscious reach with an intention to simply grip N'on's hand as though the contact could communicate better that he means what he say, "Take whatever time you need. I want to understand." There's not a hurry, here, not now anyway. If he touched, he releases to take the note and reads the length of it, expression thoughtful. "What happens when she glows, for you?" They've touched on it, but not as directly. The rest is almost certainly filed away for later thought.

N'on rolls his eyes. "False," he signs, and waves off any lingering suggestion that Stefyr isn't intelligent. With a smirk, he makes the sign for 'curious', a kind of hand tilt in front of the chest, with index touching thumb. Then he repeats the motion, this time with the letter 's'. When he passes the note and his hand is gripped, he seems a little surprise, caught by the sincerity of the candidate's assertion, but he finally nods and lets the fellow get on with reading the note. When the final question comes, it's a good thing there's been all that wine. He turns a bit red, but lifts a shoulder. "I don't always notice at first," he signs his admission. "But I feel what she feels. I think things I don't think otherwise. I act out thoughts I wouldn't otherwise. It's harder to argue with her. Embarrassing."

Stefyr's smile turns delighted for a moment as the sign is repeated. A gesture indicates himself, just to make sure he hasn't misunderstood. Then a brief considering purse of his smiling lips and nod signals his approval, not that it's needed since the name is given to him. The rest gives him pause, thinking that over. "I'm… I've thought about what it would be like to be in your place. Or another greenrider's. To be a greenrider, that is. It's hard to think about what it might be light to be a dragonrider, but harder when you try to put a color to it, you know? Color only matters so much, but green…" Well, it means you're on that side of the flights. "Is there anything that helps you? Other than hiding, I mean?"

N'on gives Stefyr an odd little smile, and is almost flippant in his first response: "I feel this about bronzes. Can't imagine it. Not my type." That's about as close to a graphic answer as Stefyr is going to get. And even as vague as it is, N'on is still turning a cherry color that suggests the answer wouldn't have come at all if it weren't for most of a bottle of wine coursing through his blood stream at the moment. He picks up his pencil and scrawls a phrase on the corner of a previous note, and slides it over. "Strategic capitulation."

"I could see a lady love," Stefyr hazards with a little smile and shrug. "About as much as I could see anything else. I mean, if a gold wanders my way, then I'll be surprised." He grins his joke. It has to be made; it's practically obligatory given his size and manly physique. The blond's head tilts as he reads the words, and it's his turn to have a little blush and look up at N'on. A swallow later and… "What does-" he sounds the second word out slowly, "-mean?"

Now N'on's face is redder than ever. He signs an apology (or three) and fumbles his pencil as he goes back to the paper to write a definition. "Giving in to demands. Here, Zhelinath's." He smiles, still covered in apology, as he hands the paper over. "You'd be a striking goldrider," he signs. Probably a lame joke, but hey. It's still a distraction!

Stefyr's hand seeks to briefly cover that hand that fumbles with the pencil, another intent to squeeze away the apologies before he releases lest he keep N'on from his voice. "I'm still learning. R'hyn gave me a dictionary. It's slow going. Only so many words I can make myself remember in a day. I'll look it up later." He has a smile for the greenrider. "Well, I am a golden beauty myself," Stefyr jests in his turn, striking a pose after a faux fluffing of his imaginary luxurious locks. He grins at the greenrider. "We'll see come hatching day if my lady is there. Or my mate." He only briefly looks worried about it, but he makes that darker thought push away. "I should head back to the barracks. Leirith's making me make sure all the pets she gave out are still alive at regular intervals. Nevermind that some of them weren't alive to begin with." That part is a mutter, but it comes with a good-natured smile that is lop-sided but no less sincere in his willingness to be used, in this case, for Leirith's Minion-happy purposes.

N'on's grin broadens at the news of 'pets' in the Candidate barracks. "She still does that?" he signs, with very deep amusement. But then he waves it off as a rhetorical question, and pats Stefyr on the shoulder. "Take care. Good evening," he signs a generic farewell, but the smile accompanying it lends a bit more familiarity and sincerity to it.

"Yeah. I got the I.O.U." BECAUSE HIS SYMBOL REALLY SHOULD BE S-DUMB, but N'on is too kind. Stefyr sounds happy about it and everything. Poor naive lamb. "I'll see you, N'on." Surely again, surely another time, and surely with more questions. There are always more with Stefyr, aren't there?

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