Diarmuid wastes no time crawling into Wing's lap once he is invited. His butterfly makes one last happy circle of them, being sure to pass close to Wing's face, before disappearing somewhere into the boy's wavy dark hair.

Instead of listening to Wing's words, though, Diarmuid seems entranced by Wing's sword.

"Is that your partner?" His gold eyes are wide, but even so they still seem to get lost as he stares into the twinkling blue gem on the sword's hilt. "Is it magical? Can you hear it singing to you? My partners are waiting at home for me to get strong enough to use them. Father took me to see them once and they all sang to me! It was so pretty. Father says that is how you know a weapon is meant for you. If you hear them singing, then that means they know your soul and you know theirs!"