Ampoule did not immediately return his greeting, but instead stood and observed with a mindful look on her face. Somehow, she immediately assumed that he would not mind being her subject for the moment; possibly that he was already used to such things. After all, like recognized like. Magic recognized magic, and deities could recognize deities even if it was the perception of energy and pernasiveness alone. Her ears were specifically attuned to regard those who were like her, and he drew her attention and kept it.

But of course, she let on that she knew nothing, except perhaps an unfurling of herself away from the water, and towards him.

She let on nothing, until it was her turn to speak.

I am at your most humble service, she acquiesced with exquisite ease, with almost no prompting on his part, drawing her chest back and down into a bow that showed the propriety she knew was innate in this interaction. For as much as she had grandiose ideas about herself and her place amongst her people, she was a lesser god; a nymph, meant to steward the lands and the seas and everything in between. Whatever this man was, she knew it was greater than she. Perhaps her piousness might win her favor in these strange, new, blazing lands.

Thus, that was how Ampoule became the prostrate supplicant, a role that suited her as comfortably as the role goddess did.