He lets her. All the aches, all the pain that have assaulted her, he lets her spill them against his shirt, rubbing at her shoulders. She's still so young; old enough that Esteban doesn't feel like he needs to hover over her as he tends to with Romeo, but still so small, for how much she'd said. A Dark Lord, and Kigi and her mentor dying, so many people-- and he somewhat got the distinct impression that they were relying on her.

Maybe it's the way she lay so little importance to her own life. That in a bid for good, her survival doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. There's mentions of books and cards, of things that belonged to her and didn't belong to her. The sword that spoke of another card caller, the mention of dragons that gave their lives and Najaran who saw through their eyes. He's not sure how much of it is correct, how much he understands what she is saying. But he doesn't need to understand. He won't force her to relive this again.

So he holds her gently, and carefully sways. Lets her empty out the heart that has seen so much death for how young she is, without care for how time stretches between them, so long as Najaran takes some comfort from this. There is a lot that seems to be broken in her world, and Esteban can't help the desire to fix things, the wish that he could do something... but there is little else he can do, but sit here, and cling to the young girl, and hope that it's enough.

Hope that maybe, maybe some day soon, he can share a bit of sunshine back with her, instead of the dark clouds that he's troubled her with.