[ cherish it, which seems a bit silly for a piece of paper . . . but allura hasn't had the luxury (or curse, maybe) of being cognizant and aware, for the last millennia . . . no, she's been underneath the impression that her civilization is gone. a dead language, a dead culture, a dead people, where she (and her friend, coran, and haggar, but they aren't proper royalty) is the only one.

it's a lonely existence, so he allows her to sort through her thoughts, without pressure, and he offers a noise of approval, at her answer; agreement. ]

I don't think anyone can argue with that. [ as he crosses his arms again, watching other people wander to fill out their own wishes, hang their own papers. the curiosity in what they write itches at him, but overall, it's fairly pointless to check. better to let them have their moment of peace and quiet; lotor can find out later. ] Though I think, at that point, they become less 'wishes' and more 'goals.'

[ he pauses before he glances down at her, arching his eyebrows. her expression is still bothering at him, and so lotor decides to just ask: ]

No one else, in your -- our -- group of heroes speaks or writes Altean with you? The Paladins haven't begun to learn?