At the movement Gabriel let his hand drop from where he'd replaced it on Bomb's head, sliding down between them and resting on the grass near enough to Re-l to still be able to feel her, use her presence as a compass.

"Words aren't just divided between being truthful and being lies," he pointed out. "And then there's how many languages there are which change all the meanings all over again. It's perception. The people who use it aren't simple, so language can't be simple either." He wouldn't have disagreed that language defined the world. Math was a language, sort of. Okay, a foundation. One language built upon. Words had created the universe; Dad had said 'let there be light' and there had been, after all.