This particular garden is showing signs of drought, leaves drooping and delicate buds beginning to wither. At the center of it, Eleven sits in a meditative state, brows furrowed as his energy reaches out to the life around him. It's a subtle thing, the way stems strengthen and petals unfurl at the edges, but a small smile comes to his face just as soon as another source of energy approaches.

His eyes open as the other speaks, and caught in an odd place between external awareness and spiritual focus, Anduin may feel a warm brush of curious energy at his feet that winds up through his ankles, then steadily dissipates.

Eleven knows he's seen him before, though from a distance. He can't recall the words he'd spoken, though he vaguely remembers an apologetic tone. More interesting is the sense he'd gleaned while he'd still been connected to the life around him. As such, he stares at the young man with some surprise and a touch of wonder.

"You're light."