He took a sip from his cup of klah as the other man spoke, letting the warm, spiced liquid settle on his tongue, pricking at his taste buds. Then he swished it around his mouth and swallowed, looking down into the mug. It wasn't that the bronze rider's story wasn't interesting. But it wasn't helpful to him - terrifying, exciting. He could have guessed that for himself. But the intangible parts, the hard to explain parts were what he wanted to know about. He felt like a runner at a Gather race, pulling at the reins, aching to hit the starting line and just go - even if he didn't know he was running toward.
"It sounds like something," he said finally, because he felt that there ought to be words. "What about your brother? Did he - is he a rider, too?"
Kyn'dras grinned sympathetically. "Not quite what you were hoping for, is it?" He guessed. "But it really is difficult to put to words." His eyes gazed off into the distance as he turned his thoughts inwards. "One moment you're standing there - hot, sweaty, and shaking with nerves - and the next moment he's there, in your head. And it's like he's always been there." The rider seemed to come back to himself with a small shake of his head. "Like I said, hard to explain." He shrugged and took a sip of his klah.
"And yeah, my brother is a rider as well now." He continued. "Feast Crashers, which would have been..." He thought for a moment. "The clutch right after Padakth's actually. Now there was an interesting clutch."