He hums in understanding and agreement, nodding his head. He and Amos aren't identical in circumstance, as he does feel like he believes in hope, and that has stuck with him even when alone - something he's been forced to experience more vividly than ever before, since being dragged here. But he remembers his roots. He remembers feeling like such ideals were beyond him, even when living examples of it stood in plain view.

Even if Amos doesn't totally understand it, doesn't feel it as instinctively as his friends, the fact that he sees it as worthy of admiration or support is its own quality. They were both making the conscious decision to pursue what looked right to them, even if it didn't come naturally, and there's something comforting in that.

Amos's obvious curiosity about 'places like this' does make Estinien wonder about what kind of world exactly he's familiar with. In some ways, Estinien knows he was blessed to have experienced happiness for a while in his youth, even if that made it hurt all the more keenly when it was ripped away.

"My homeland... while not precisely the same, I can see its image in Solvunn. The way I remember it from my childhood. 'Twasn't a commune, and 'twas plagued by its own war, but... the people of my village looked after one another. Between the struggle, there were moments of peace."

He stares down at his drink.

"'Tis long gone, now. But the people here... I would like to imagine this is what my home could have been, in better times."

When food wasn't a struggle, when spring still came, when war wasn't on the doorstep.