Samus watched as her voice caused Sila to stumble backwards in surprise, head tilted slightly, eyes amused but slightly concerned. "Hi there." The woman chuckled, her voice warm with its low drawl, warm, melted honey on a hot day. Her eyes moved past her companion for a moment, watching as the fireflies flitted frantically, as if worried for the safety of their guardian-- little nurses, bustling, too scared to get close enough to check her pulse. Mahogany eyes returned to the face of the woman in front of her, and she grinned toothily, her tail mimicking the joyful wags. The question was met with a somberness of the eyes, though, that made her face fall slightly in concern.

"Never a moment's rest." There was a twitch at the corner of her mouth. "Needed somethin' ta drown it out... Dunno why it's here, though. Fer both of us, apparently." Samus wanted to reach over and chase the sadness out of her eyes, but there was a certain nobility in allowing yourself to truly feel, if only for a little bit. Here, in the forest, perhaps neither of them needed to be strong. There were expectations to uphold, roles to fill, but here... maybe it was so appealing because they could be anything. It was a forgotten corner of Spirane, magical with the fireflies that were like ropes of Christmas lights between the trees. It was a place that was both here and not here-- like a land in the clouds from which they could observe the goings-on of everyone below.

It had always been that way, though. Perhaps it was why her mother had loved it so much. It was a place where she never had to grow up. For Samus, it was a place where nothing was expected of her. And for Sila... she wondered what the firefly forest was for Sila. Perhaps it was a place outside of suffering, outside of death-- a place to stay alive in forever. That was just a guess, though. It could be something else entirely.

"Yer upset." She said quietly, a declaration, not a question. Samus had always been sensitive to others, a skill useful in situations such as these. "Talk to me about it. Don't keep it inside, it ain't good for you, honey-eyes." Her voice was gentle, but probing, as if trying to gently coax a pup out of hiding. Samus, of course, could make several guess but it was only good to be presumptuous until a certain point-- after that it was insensitive, unsympathetic. The last thing she wanted to do was drive her further inside herself, and so the woman would choose her words carefully.