Emhyr's ashen lips press together in a thoughtful hum at the question Eythora poses to him. The answer comes easily, his umber eyes finding hers across the small space that separates them. "This is my birthplace. It's the only place I've ever known, and if life treats me well, it's the only place I ever hope to know. But I think I would like to learn more about your homeland, and these scorching deserts you speak of." A small smile graces his face as he steers the topic away from himself.

Truthfully, Emhyr never had intentions of leaving the Bay for what others might consider greener pastures. The Bay was his birthplace, his homeland, it occupied every part of him - mind, soul, and body. He often dreamed of becoming as good a king as his grandfather had been, and as respected as his father once was. When he let his mind wander, he imagined a future where Tinuvel was once again united, with the Bay at its helm. As soon as Enver and Enid were old enough, he would put his plans into motion. For now, though, he was content to simply revel in the joy of having his own small family surrounding him, in the place he loved most.

Yet he was, on occasion, curious about what lay beyond the sea, about the other islands that lurked beyond the horizon. He had heard fantastical tales of rolling hills and windswept prairies, of balmy jungles and sand-swept dunes. They made for an intriguing story, but his desire to travel was less than his desire to stay and protect his home, to keep a watchful eye on the ocean until one day, by some miracle, Fell returned. Perhaps, he thought, Eythora's stories of her own homeland would sate his curiosity.

As the pair pushed their way into the small thicket, Emhyr could feel the chill of the wind finally dissipate, his own body relaxing incrementally. The warmth of Eythora's petite body against his own certainly helped to drive away the frigid cold that had seeped into his bones.

The soft rasp of Eythora clearing her throat in the hushed space catches Emhyr's attention. He tilts his head to look back at her, and for several long moments neither turns away. The inky king had never been prone to shyness, but he felt far more seen in that span of seconds than he had... well, ever. The small, prideful part of him preened beneath her observations, a soft smile curling at the edges of his mouth. Too soon, the moment has passed, and Eythora finally breaks their intimate staring contest with another gentle cough. 'I didn't mean to leave for so long,' comes her soft confession.

"I know," he responds simply, turning his head to press a soft, fleeting kiss to her cheek. Though the touch is brief, Emhyr almost swears he can feel sparks skittering across the sensitive flesh there. "But you're here now, so let's not dwell on the past, hm? Just think of how happy Enver will be to see you. He's grown quite a bit, and is becoming a fine young man." He hopes that thoughts of their son will brighten her spirits, just as Enver brightened his a little more every day.