[ Again, another odd feeling, placing flowers on the graves and commemorating those he's never known. It's easier in a way, not having to be chained to someone else's grief.

(He can't help but think about how Miklan didn't even get a burial, his gruesome death still very much fresh in Sylvain's mind. His older brother had been disinherited by their father years ago, and besides there hadn't been anything left of him to mourn, material or memory. The world was undeniably better off without him.

But even if nobody would miss Miklan, perhaps it would've been good to put him to rest, to have this sort of ritual for a sense of closure. Better to weigh his ghost down with dirt and stone than with nothing at all.)

...Sylvain shakes himself out of his somber musings when Nanu mentions Acerola—and immediately feels bad for making snap judgments about unfamiliar naming conventions. She sounds like a cute kid, or at least someone very dear.

He chuckles and shakes his head when asked. ] Nah. I'm an only child.

[ (Had Miklan been anyone else, would Sylvain have a cute niece or nephew to tell Nanu stories of? Or maybe he has sired a poor bastard or two that Sylvain is entirely unaware of.) ]

...But I'd love a niece or nephew of my own. Kids are always so honest with you. I could use more of that in my life.

[ He offers Nanu a genial smile, before he flicks the leaf in his hand away and pulls out his phone, flipping through the directory. ]

Huh. I don't see an 'Acerola' on the list, but that's probably for the best. How old is she?