"It's all right," he assures. "I think--I think it's nice that you can talk about him, even a little."

Verity's encountered those who shun all mention of a lost loved one, and he's seen how brittle and fragile it can make them. He's glad that Orym can at least acknowledge the happy times through the sadness.

"I'm a monk," he says, a little more abrupt than he means to. Verity huffs a soft, embarrassed laugh and he can feel his face get warm. He looks down. "I mean--I follow Ilmater. I've met a lot of grieving people."

Gods, he probably could say that better. He could say a lot of things better. Verity resists the urge to fidget with the end of his braid. He realizes Orym might not even know who Ilmater is - he's not a common good in Tal'Dorei, he's learning.

"I only mean... I don't mind."