[[An Zhe hummed a soft acknowledgement, his gaze drifting down to his hands as his fingers shifted and linked together. What would he like to collect, year after year?]]

I’ve never considered it.

[[It was a quiet admission. Year after year. An unfathomable concept for a life that was only meant to flourish for One. It was not a thing that humans would say. They lived such long lives, what would they want? What would An Zhe want to hold on to as a human now that he had more time? What would he want to share with Him?

The silence between the three of them stretched long enough that Thomas was beginning to show signs of becoming disheartened. Oh no. That had not gone the way it should have.

But then, even softer than before:]]

… Snowflakes.

[[He gave his own fingers a squeeze.]]

It would be nice. To be able to collect snowflakes.