Skill: Herbalist[2/5]

'M'lady,' he says. His lady. Pale lips pulled up into a smile, one with a sense of giddy excitement that she'd thought only a lovesick puppy would experience. Her tail unfurled itself from beneath her, instead waving slowly by her thighs. 'A gift for you—for the kindness you've extended me. I...was unsure of which flowers you preferred. But I hope this suffices.'

Siru was just about to explain how any flower—or any gift, for that matter, would do plenty more than suffice. Alas, her mouth parted, yet the words could never arrive; instead, the saccharine cadence of feigned naivete called forth, slicing the intimacy and leaving it to dissipate into the air.

The Goddess twisted her head to look towards the golden child. Tall was she, taller than herself. Siru's lips pursed in a mixture of disappointment and the uncharacteristic feeling of annoyance. Peonies, nor lily of the valley, have any thorns on their stems. She spoke matter-of-factly, tone brisk, eyes sharp.

She placed the flowers at Rhadamanthus's feet. I'd collected them for you, awkward as it was to have this... impetuous creature in their presence, she would not let it ruin the moment (at least, not anymore than it already had been). And... thank you. For these. She chuckled softly, looking down at the small wildflowers now in her possession. It was almost as if they'd simply completed a trade.

With subtle movements, Siru turned her body just enough to turn her back towards the golden youth, making it clear without words that the Forest Mother was entirely uninterested in her presence. The view of the west during this time is beautiful from the ridges. Would you care to join me? She prayed he'd accept, and she'd pray that this tone-deaf girl would be uninterested in joining them. Anything to get that kid away. Gods.