The reborn cultivator shifted herself to sit with her back against Qatrand. The hand that had been up on her head was grabbed at and sat down upon her lap, where she began to idly play with the swordswoman's fingers.
"When I was a teenager, my parents were already… weakened. They weren't very old, if you look at the standards of this era. But, mortals living hard lives age quicker."
Her spirit was mostly calm as she spoke. The only other times she told the tale, she would pretend to be more affected. People expect you to be as sad as the day it happened just because *they* were hearing of it for the first time.
New information to them was 'fresh'. It had edges that caught on other things as it entered their minds. Being nonchalant when someone else was hurting about the thing you were speaking about made you 'cold' at best or a 'monster' at worst.
