Makaria couldn't stop herself from thinking that missing six months of the world you already understood wasn't comparable to never having known the world at all, but that was such an unkind thing to think. Freyr had been killed by a monster that had taken his face, he had had his life stolen from him.
"I-" She had been about to say that she'd never found him to be dull, before remembering - again that she'd never met him. She didn't know what he was truly like. "I think that if you're quiet and kind," she began instead, "it's easy for people to make assumptions about who you are. But... I'm not very good at reading people's intentions. I always assume the best of people, maybe because my whole life was spent with good men, with heroes my father probably threatened to behave around me."
Makaria took the jar in hand and, after giving it a sniff, she smiled. "It smells good, and I never say no to trying new things."