Girls have a way about them when they finally become women, Daemon might say.

The metal sound of sharpening continues for a moment, Daemon resting there with his elbows on his knees, looking like an ordinary traveler. The light paints him in different colors, silver hair and violet eyes hidden in fire. Which is a bit poetic, all considered.

Eventually he says, "No, but Caraxes has slept."

And he feels marginally rested for it. Not all pairs are so closely entwined, and Daemon won't be able to actually answer any What the fuck's that about inquiries, but it is what it is.

"Do you dream?"