How to tell her that the world had lost its luster. There was nothing in it any longer, or at least nothing he could picture, that made it seem as though any of the things they did were worth their time. Of course, he should not have been here at all. Wherever one went to find such a thing as the First Song, Koe did not know. But he did know that he would never find it in a caravan of vagabonds looking for someplace safe to rest their weary bones. Koe did not begrudge them that, any more than he would have begrudged Iluq her prince if that was what she wanted. It just wasn't what he wanted, was it? What did he want? To rest? To forget the look on Taereme's face? To feel as though Orb and all of his madness was long since behind Koe? Or simply to be gone from this sensation of responsibility? It was not a very charitable way of looking at the world.
He did not feel entirely charitable.
Every sway of her hips, every gleam of her eye, every ounce of light that caught her skin seemed to draw him closer to her. Iluq wore her beauty as though it was always thus, for everyone, and she did not see how rare a gift she'd been given. That was part of the reason she was so charming, then. A female too keenly aware of their own beauty was twisted and warped in one way or another; either shrewd and manipulative or paralyzed by a gift they felt they did not deserve. Iluq, on the other hand, wore it well enough to fool the greatest of men. Such as her prince. Except he seemed now to know. She didn't want to talk about Ithacles - but was that because Ithacles did not matter to her, or because she did not know which of them she would have...
...not that it was fair to ask that question, in any case.
"I... have you ever tried to build a house, Iluq?" he grinned at her; the sudden change in subject was throwing her off-balance. "You begin with the foundation, and follow with the frame. Everything that comes after is useless if these two simple tasks are not completed properly. The house will fall in on itself, or on your head, and in the end you'll be left with more troubles than you had before."
Her head was tilted now. Interested. If she wasn't before.
"I feel as though I've been building a house with no foundation, since the Breaking," and Koe shook his head. "I ... don't know where I should be, or what I should be doing, but I feel as though I should be somewhere. Doing something. The only thing that kept me from being buried under the weight of that were my friends. My family. And you."
A weak ending. She was neither friend nor family? Or was she something else? Suddenly the promises he'd made to Minaht... the life they'd wanted to share together. All of it seemed like a bushel of stone upon his back. Yes, he thought of her, but he did not know what to make of her. As she was probably figuring out very rapidly from his less-than-smooth outpouring of thought. This was not supposed to happen to a bard. This was disgraceful.