Felih smiles, and it's a lazy one, content and relaxed. "It's a beautiful melody. You do it justice," he says softly, looking out to the tower. "There's something about old melodies that intrigues me. The songs and words passed down, through the generations. Tradition and memory, from voice to voice. It reminds me of some of the old songs of my tribe." Felih is tribeless now- he never introduced himself with a tribe prefix. But logic dictates he must have had one, once.

Suddenly struck by curiosity, he turns his head back towards G'raha. "Speaking of which... what's your tribe like, if you don't mind speaking of it? I've not yet had the chance to ask."