[ Somnus recognizes the question for what it is, that Rinea is refocusing their conversation on the task of undoing the enchantment. Any other time, he would be grateful for it; this time, there is a treacherous beat within his chest that accompanies the thought of parting too quickly. ...But there is an excuse to stay: that he may be able to weave a laurel for her. Luckily, there are ample amount of flowers both in the boughs of the lower branches of trees.

This is just enough to offset the rather grim connotations birthdays and coronations carried for all of his descendants: that of being condemned to their fate. ]

A birth was a joyous triumph over death. [ In his time, children didn't always live until adulthood. ] The namedays of our descendants... I recall them. [ Being kept as a spirit within the Ring for two thousand years meant that he was able to memorize each and every one. ] They were always celebrated. [ He continues, raising his head towards a flowering branch of a willow. This one has a particularly peachy blush to its pink petals. ]

With chrysanthemums.

[ The tie loosens further. ]