They are political creatures, as much as Aymeric seems to wish otherwise. Not helping his cause is Ysayle's struggle at allowing herself to be known as a person, not just a cause. She has dedicated all of herself to her goals, defined herself by them, and rebuilt herself using them. What remains of Ysayle Dangoulain is buried beneath ice and snow, has been since she was nineteen.

But this is a partnership, and while Ysayle does not feel a thaw forthcoming, she can try. As dedicated as he is to keeping her from misery, Aymeric should be met with something in return in thanks. Which means an attempt at moving away from politics towards things that are lighter in topic. Though that thought does not last long at the subject he turns to.

That there should be people glad to hear of Saint Shiva startles her, and her eyes go wide as she looks at him for a long second before her head falls, shaking to dismiss his point.

"A false image of her, created by the dreams of a lonely, desperate woman." She explains, gaze focused on the hands in her lap before she moves to take a sip of the -- admittedly excellent -- wine. "Tis not a thing to be proud of, Ser Aymeric, or celebrated."