The boy straightened up, the very tip of the blade he held lightly raking the dirt.
"I've not been home in a while." He admitted. "The way of the desert is very different than it is here. But I see where our homes are similar, too. Light and dark, heat and cold, are one and the same, and yet different, together. That The Way that I understand here. It's the same back in the sand." He spoke very different, every evently, eloquently. If he was the son of someone presigious, his diction seemed to indicate so. He had completely dropped the casual, indirect tone from earlier.

"I can't do anything on my own any more. That's why I'm here."