With a nod, Ber grabbed the watering pail and, after giving it a brief shake, made his way over to the corner where the basin of rainwater sat, raising voice as he did so to continue the conversation. Idly, he refilled the container while his thoughts and their words turned to witch-parings and werewolves. Then, nodding in agreement, he directed his steps toward the wall that Temperance had indicated.

“I think it does take a while to train them,” Ber agreed, eyes on the plants as he carefully tipped the pail so water could pour out. Gardening was still relatively new and unfamiliar to him. “But I’m not sure either. They’re around, but there’s not really any reason for us to see a lot of their specific paired training. As for why there aren’t more of them?” He shrugged again. “They’re powerful, but does a witch have to put all of her focus into controlling a werewolf? You’ve turned two soldiers into one, that way.” He wasn’t a strategist by any means, but even he knew numbers were important. “Maybe that’s part of the reason why?”

There was a lot he didn’t know about the matter, including whether he would want to end up in one, so Temperance’s suggestion to give it more thought made sense. Pausing in his work, he glanced back at her and nodded, seeing that she had finished her preparations and was watching him. At her question, he offered another shrug. “I might know someone in a pair?” Ber said, turning his attention back to the task at hand. Though he had taken care of a decent portion of the plants, there were still plenty left to water. “It’s not something I usually go around asking people.” In conversations with strangers that were little more than a mutual acknowledgment of each other’s existence, it just never came up.

Ber thought about it. If he did know someone, they would be little more than an acquaintance; those he spent the most time around were all unpaired soldiers like him, for they were all in the same unit. “It would probably be good to ask someone about though.” He finished off the row of plants and started walking back toward Temperance, eyes falling briefly on the cauldron behind her. With a brief nod in its direction, Ber asked, “What potion are you making today?”

As Temperance compared controlling a werewolf to controlling a summoning, Ber glanced over at her curiously. Perhaps because he’d never put much thought into the particulars of exercising control over a summoning or a werewolf - neither activity was relevant to his life - he never drawn the comparison himself, but he supposed it made sense. Though he had never seen her use any magic apart from chanting over a potion, Temperance would know better than he. “Do you use any of your magic in other ways?” He found himself curiously voicing the natural progression of that thought. Incantations, curses, and summonings were commonly used in the military, as they all had more obvious applications in combat than potion-making, but he wondered if Temperance, as a civilian, would have any reason to use them.

When she urged him to find someone to talk to about with pairings, he nodded again and made a mental note to do something about that sometime. At some point. But as he returned the watering pail to its proper location, he was distracted soon enough by the answer to his question. Just as Temperance knew more about magic than he did, she also almost certainly knew more about pregnancy and childbirth and everything that entailed. He’d never thought of aching feet and a sore back as a side effect of carrying a baby, but with a shrug, he agreed, “I suppose that makes sense. But there are things you can’t eat when you’re pregnant? That sounds…” He made a face. “Rough.”

Ber really liked food, okay?

It was, admittedly, hard to imagine Temperance cursing someone, and as she made her point about having to think of curses on the fly, he nodded his understanding. Ber was better at reacting in the middle of an altercation than planning ahead, but his options were rather simplified compared to hers: say something or punch someone or walk away. There was a distinct lack of the creativity that the use of curses necessitated. “Do you think there are witches who sit there, preemptively figuring out how they would curse people in different situations?” Such an activity seemed like a waste of time, but there were probably some women in Skia who were vindictive enough to do just that.

The sizzling cauldron drew Ber’s attention, and watching Temperance begin to aliquot the potion into smaller vials for storage, he listened as she discussed incantations and summonings. If he’d thought about it, he would have previously recognized that Melody, like every other witch, could inherently perform the same magic he saw practiced in the military wing, but the obvious realization only struck when Temperance mentioned it. The image of the stern older lady launching a fireball at someone did nothing to make her less intimidating, even if he only knew of her sharpness through word of mouth.

Ber took Temperance’s amusement at his ignorance regarding pregnancy with a good-natured eye roll, but the information she shared was nevertheless interesting. “No alcohol?” He echoed, dismayed as if this were ever a problem that would personally impact him. “And there’s even more you can’t eat?” Ber shook his head but refrained from asking more. On the whole, there was quite a bit he didn’t know about such matters and even more that he thought he knew but didn’t actually know - but he did know that a deeper exploration into such topics was distinctly not what he wanted.