Aest was the complete opposite of Vell.
No magic, no traveling. He was alone and a warrior.
He seemed to be completely rooted in the land, unmovable like the mountain itself.
But there were still a few things that he could share with Vell.
"Were you ever married?"
She tried to ask the question as gently as she could, because she knew that for many, this could be a touchy subject.
"Yes," he said. It didn't seem to pain him to talk about it.
"And children?"
"Yes," he said again, just as plainly. "A few."
"A few?"
He smiled. "They grew, and argued, and wanted far more than these hills and the wind, and a stubborn father. So they left. I don't think this Vell is any of my sons. They didn't look like me at all. They looked far more like their mother."
There was no resentment in his voice. If anything, there was something like distant pride, far, far away, but he carried it all the same.
"That was a long time ago," he continued. "Long enough that I doubt they think of this place as home anymore."
"And your wife?"
"She went away too," he said. "Far later than the children, but still a long time ago."
He didn't elaborate, and Sonder didn't press.
"I knew that they loved me," he went on, "but I could also see that they yearned for the world out there, so I had to let them go. I didn't have it in me to leave, so I asked them to leave me instead."
He huffed. "Anything else?"
"Are you immortal?" Sonder asked. "Or just long-lived?"
He laughed, then joked, "Well, I've been alive for as long as I can remember."
Sonder exhaled through her nose. It was funny, in a way, but she still said. "That's not really an answer."
"It's the best one I've got," he replied, amused. "I don't age. Or if I do, it's slow enough that I stopped noticing. Decades pass, and I feel much the same. So, long-lived, maybe. Immortal?" He shrugged. "I haven't tested that theory."
"…Do you suffer from it?" Sonder asked.
Aest tilted his head. "From what?"
"The sickness. When time stops meaning anything. When years blur together and you don't seem to notice."
Aest's humor faded. It was like he had never heard of something like that.
"I don't think so," he said, after thinking about it. "Not like that. I remember seasons and faces, promises I made and broke, and how long ago they were. I remember exactly how long I've been alone and why."
"Exactly?"
"I think as best as one can," he said. "I don't have an impeccable memory, but I'd say it's pretty good, all things considered. It's not that time has never slipped from me; that happens to everyone once in a while, but I don't think I've ever lost it like that."
"That's rare."
"So I'm just now told."