It betrays the depth of innocence that Lauralae carries, even after so many years of life. She is still a child in so many ways, still pure despite the murder that she carries on her shoulders and the blood on her hands. She might have brought death to many, but in heart and in some parts of her mind? She is like a child, bruised by the world but wishing for a kinder hand.

"Orange to green." Quick, sharp, soft words. "It is warmer, but the colour has stayed the same since the orange. Green like the trees, the bushes, the forests."

Closing her eyes, Lauralae takes a moment, stroking her fingers over the egg again before she lifts her eyes back to Dany.

"I..." Hesitating, as if afraid, ashamed. "I love it."