"I have no idea what more I need to know. I'm not so all-seeing. Is it so wrong for me to want to know? To learn about you? To be able to admit to myself that the view I had of you thirteen hundred years ago might not have captured who you are? Or that you might have changed?"
Onainat didn't know why it was so wrong for her to ask him things. She re-sketched the entire face of the world more often than she'd re-sketched her father. There were humans who could tell her when and how their parents met, what toys their mother played with as a child, stories of great-grandparents. Maybe it was wrong to make the comparison...but how was she supposed to think otherwise? She'd walked the world with more humans than she had any dragon. For all of her father's stories, she knew none of those tiny things about him. Details. Things she could put in the edges of her life's map to make the inks, the names, the ridges in the years seem more relevant.
Things she could tell her children, if she were ever so lucky to have them.
Onainat frowned deeply.
"I didn't know loving you meant living with a specific, unchangeable image of you for all time. Or is this another custom of our race you never told me a story about as a child?"
She regretted the question the second she asked it.