[ Reynir is glad that he has his hand laced with Onni's; he gives it a squeeze, feeling the tide of sadness and confusion coming upon Onni. It might not have been intentional, but maybe it was a good thing, that they hadn't seen the memory Onni was bracing himself for. Sweet as it had been, there seemed to be more substance to this one.

When Onni mentions Tuuri's habit of playing with his hair, Reynir smiles, sad and quiet. ]

She was really cute. You both were.

[ He swallows, wondering how Onni would react if he asked to play with his hair. It's something Reynir has thought about. A lot, actually. He had assumed Onni would scoff it off out of indifference, but now he's worried that it might actually be painful for him. Bring up memories that had once been happy but are now layered over with a fog of grief.

Nodding along as Onni explains his memory of magic lessons, Reynir explains: ]

I have memories like that. Like... I remember my father taught me to knit, but I don't remember specific times when that happened or how long it took or what age I was. That's totally normal.

[ It seems important to reassure Onni that other people haven't got perfect recall of everything from when they were young, either. Just to give him a kind of baseline, for comparison. ]

She seems like she was kind of a harsh teacher.

[ Reynir makes the comment lightly, hesitantly. He's got a bit more to say about it than just that, but he treads cautiously. Family is a precarious topic. ]

You were so powerful. Even at that age...