"Perhaps that is what it does." Lauralae isn't sure what her blood is. It can harm and it can heal, lending itself to the blood magic she had always found so easy, so simple - but she doesn't understand it. Myr had been taken from her long before her questions could be answered and now she is alone in the world with no one she can trust.

There's no hesitation then as Lauralae glances at her hands. Below her palm there are marks, scarring, signs of what she had done to herself - in the curve of her thumbline where she had bitten herself to heal Dany in the first place, something knotting in her stomach as she forces her hands down, back, hidden in the length of her sleeve.

Too much to think about now, even with Rav'ahm voice calm in her mind.

"I have not met many elves," she admits, her voice quiet, almost shy. It's not often that people share their histories with her, want to talk to her for so long. "I spent my time alone in the forests, waiting. Growing." Hesitating. "I think my parents were elves."