Sora
“Thank you.” Zahra's face practically shone with gratitude, and frankly, he had no idea why. He had not, to his understanding, done anything in particular. Certainly, he'd given her a tour, but it was honestly a rather short one and only covered the grounds. He was fairly certain that his father would think it a horrendous exemplar of courtesy to conduct it in such a way, but then Sora had blatantly stopped caring what his father thought a while ago. He didn't understand why his older brothers still seemed to be on some level affected by the old man's moods and volatile temper; he had simply decided it wasn't worth putting up with and withdrawn from that side of his life as much as he possibly could.
“I cannot remember the way back to my room.” Sora cleared his throat with a measure of shame, coloring slightly, something that was most unlike him. Of course he would have forgotten! He'd been so eager to get back outside, away from the sensation of being constantly closed in by four walls, and worse, a ceiling. He rubbed the back of his neck with his newly-freed hand (and why did that feel so strange?) and sighed.
"Apologies. That's my fault... I never actually showed you where it was. If you don't mind following me a little longer, I'll get you there." He remembered his manners and held open the falconry door, covering the remaining distance between the two of them and his prison- er, home- in short order. He let the silence surround them, for like Zahra, he had never felt himself particularly apt with speech, though he could read into a quiet pause more than most. Silence for Sora was not a mystery, merely a discretion. Why speak when there was nothing to say? It was not for him an indication of disinterest or distance, but something much more close and genuine than speaking just to fill one. Only people content with each other could enjoy a silence without feeling the burning need to speak. He took the fact that he did not feel this compulsion as a positive sign.
He arrived outside her door and stepped aside. "This one's yours, I think. At least I hope it is; it has the largest window. I'll return in a few minutes to help you find the dining room... or maybe just get lost." He grimaced slightly; but it was actually something of a joke, as the subtle sheen of mirth in his eyes would show. He did not often say goodbye, and this was no exception. Instead, he simply bent slightly at the waist, not exactly a bow, but more an acknowledgement, and pivoted to head off in the opposite direction. He would need to be quick if he intended to get them both where they needed to be on time.