"Ah." She huffed at him, disapproving of his dismissal of his own abilities. "I don't think it's boring at all." A shake of her head, enough that wobbled her large braid. She didn't want him being discouraging about himself, even if he believed it, because to her each talent was important-- regardless of what she had seen before. And regardless,

"I couldn't do a thing like that." Sometimes she could produce flame, or ice, but never anything so magical like this. A story told, visually, with magic. She could see why he was in the troupe, it was something she'd have sat and watched with the children had she been in the cottage at the time. "It was like a picture that moved, not many people could paint words with images. You should be proud!"