[He watches her for a long moment, studying her quietly as she uses her orb to light the way and survey what's ahead.

The way she had trailed off, her voice faltering— he remembers, not for the first time, the memory that she'd been made to revisit at the heart of the Vale of Tears, the way she has told him that it wasn't a bad memory at all, even through the tears. There is so much he does not yet know about her, what she's been through, but every sliver that she reveals, every bit she chooses to share, he understands why she's been so carefully guarded just a little better.

More than anything, he wants to be able to take her hand and chase that hesitation from her voice, offer comfort of some kind, for whatever good it may or may not do.

He follows her lead when she changes the subject, unwilling to press or ask her to dwell when she clearly wished to direct her focus elsewhere. With her light showing the way, he starts towards the skull at a steady pace, his mouth set into a thin line.]

Let's see what we're dealing with, shall we? If we're going to wake it, I imagine that's an excellent place to start.