[ Lady Aisha? Soft? As surely as she is nestled against him, her breath warm against his skin as she huffs and pouts, Sion knows that Aisha is the farthest from such a thing. Tenacious as she is, he cannot imagine that she has not wholly given herself to the pursuit of becoming stronger—be it through the practice of magic or otherwise!—and as he had written to her in days past, he is quite sure that nothing is beyond her reach.

She's lifted him today, in more ways than one, and it is that very strength which will one day move mountains, and perhaps even the heavens above. ]

They are a Lady's greatest weapon, or so I am told. [ Secrets. A Lady's weapon and a King's curse. ] And you wield them aptly, holding them high overhead with maybes and might haves.

[ A hum upon his lips, he glances to her (coquettishly, though he fails to realize it), his body thrumming with their mana bonds, their closeness setting him at ease. This is a link forged without worry or care, a manifestation of happiness, and Sion finds himself unwilling to infringe upon it. ]

But if you should ever need another to practice with, do not hesitate to call upon me. [ He laughs, though the sound is quiet, gentled by his own repose. His head lays now upon the grass, and if his voice drifts in and out... Well, he is only tired. They have been out for quite some time, after all. ] Think of me as your whetstone, if you will.

[ Closing his eyes, his lashes fan silver against his cheeks. ]

Always, I will keep you sharp.