"Peony Min." The mage offered her hand for a somewhat limp handshake. Unlike the woman, her hands were smooth and uncalloused. "And you are Aisling Wilde." The name had been found during the course of checking the woman -- who had been in and out of consciousness -- into a clinic.
And it was good -- surprising, but good -- to see this woman was one of the faithful, even if only for several days a year. An ordeal such as that would be easier to bear with faith.
At the comment about her candle -- rather shockingly personal, actually, but Peony did not truly mind -- she smiled sadly and said, "Sometimes, one is enough." The path of her whole life had been decided by the cause of this one candle. Where would she have been, had her mother lived? Sometimes, she wondered, and could not answer the seemingly simple question.
Faram worked in mysterious ways; she was exactly where she belonged.