The way she pronounces her name lends almost a musical sort of cadence to it, and it makes her smile a little. "A lovely name. Well-met, Moana." Thereafter, she lapses into a sort of quietude, allowing the young woman as long as she needs to regain her bearings. To be so near the fountain nearly makes her shiver; and with that in mind, she pulls the coat from her shoulders and wraps it about the girl without a thought.

Bits and pieces seem to come back to her, and her chest tightens to hear the intimation that somewhat had happened to her grandmother. Unsure whether or not it is proper, she errs on the side of caution and offers her hand, shoulder she need comfort. She had been much younger than Moana when her own grandmother had passed; and her heart had broken with grief and sorrow.

But that is not all. What this girl says sounds nearly fantastical; but she can make it rain by a simple murmured wish alone. Anything is possible.

A stone. That, they can find. "What hue was this stone? We will find it, and safeguard your people." As she would her own.