She realizes, in hindsight, that was probably slightly less than tactful to blurt out. She never would have done it normally, out of caution if nothing else, but this ship has assaulted her senses with so many new kinds of thoughts and sensations that she's bursting with them. Containing them further is an improbability, and she doesn't want to overflow.

Duncan gets a small, sheepish smile as apology and a slow shake of the head. "Just know," she says, unable to gather enough coherency at the moment to properly articulate who and what she is when she doesn't really fully understand herself. "Can tell. Generation after generation of the same person being different people, but there's a goal. The swords carry the fate and the lightning carries the soul." She can't explain him coherently either. Exact terms escape her, only picking up the overall concept of what Duncan is, not the varied specifics. She can't do that when he's not thinking about them.

There's one other concept rattling around his head, louder than the rest, weightier with more purpose. There can be only one. But she doesn't say it.