Kratos knew the story. Knew, in fact, a few different variations of the story. Ninkasi had told him herself how she'd come into being. Mostly, he figured, because she liked to joke that her father was like a seahorse. But he'd never heard her put quite this sort of spin on it, or make it such a personal testament to her own strength of will. He'd never doubted her character in that regard; after all, she was how many thousands of years older than he was-- she hadn't survived all that time by being a shrinking violet.
The way she phrased it though, not so much the part about bending with the wind, but the part about the roots, it made something in the middle of his chest pinch. Kray couldn't quite put his finger on the emotion. It was something like pride, but more. Deeper. Better. He just knew that he felt very lucky to have such an amazing person in his life.
An amazing person who had pretty much caused a bloodbath. There was still that to deal with. Even if she was making jokes.
"You Sumerians don't do anything by halves, do you?" His own attempt at humor was fairly weak, and he knew it. But they were still on some unsettled ground. They'd both acknowledged that, so he wasn't going to feel bad for it. He was trying. "How about next time we skip the flood and the raining blood and go straight for the frogs? I like frogs."
There was a pause as he pursed his lips slightly, then Kratos asked quietly, "Do you want to tell me why... all that happened?" Maybe if he understood that, he could get his brain around the fact that she'd done it in the first place.