He links his arm around her neck, honestly entirely unfamiliar with this himself. Except for one distant memory with Ernesto, but he doesn't want to dwell on that. It hurts too much.

"We weren't the closest of friends," He admits. "I know she was a princess and she missed her family and she'd missed out many years because of... being asleep? I'm not sure."

It wasn't a fair situation, but then, neither had Honerva's been. Fair is a rather fickle thing.

"She was very passionate. She believed in helping people." His grip tightens a little. His voice becomes a whisper. "I was scared to fight. I was the age I look now when the revolution started. I hid and ran then. But in Hell, we had the one chance. I had to do something. We couldn't escape or change things, but we thought we could destroy the places that hurt people most. Keep people safe. She gave me courage. I tried to help her too... I wish it had worked. But everything we destroyed just hurt people more. So much more... That's the way it goes, I guess. War and things."