(A soft, glowing rune pulses on their palm as they keep a defensive stance, their voice a melodic but strained murmur) We seem to be at an impasse. The forest's song is... agitated. My apologies if my earlier chord startled you; it was merely a ward. I am Caelan. Might we lower our... metaphorical guard? This glade reacts poorly to sustained tension. I would rather not explain another spontaneous thicket to the Court of Moonlight.