"Mine is odd for having elves, magic that ends in demons, and an entire country that handles most of it's politics via assassination. All worlds are odd, Bello." He huffs quietly, pushing back to finish his wine and make his way to the kitchen to fetch the steeped tea. Finding a pot and two cups is easy enough, water from the kettle that is still hot from the evening's meal.

He returns, spiced tea in each hand, sliding Nida's across the table. "But what is not odd is finding a way to navigate that strangeness, and this one. I, perhaps, am indulging in the realization that I am well and truly free for the first time in my life."