[Yuan doesn't expect the things that mean something to him to be valued by others. It's nice when it happens; but he can't place any significant hopes on it happening.]

I can't go back. Pretending I can is pointless, too. Refusing to adapt is hazardous to my survival.

[It's impossible to ever make a clean break. He was made by Sylvarant, as was his blade, and he will bear its touch for the rest of his life. There may come a time, too, when he's aggressive about this origin just the same as his blood.]

[That time will be when his future is more secure.]

It isn't as though I ever anticipated weaving ribbons in, anyway.

[...He didn't mean to say that entirely aloud. Kratos will have no idea what it means, he hopes. Yuan pushes onward.]

How are the gardens here? The greenhouses? Would it be possible to acquire potted plants?