It was hard to tell how much of what was said was registered. The Lightwarden hadn't gotten aggressive, none of the sineaters in the area seemed ruffled by Emet's presence so long as that stayed the case. The creature watched him a long moment, though the Ascian might get the sense that it wasn't entirely with the eye-bearing blooms. But soon enough there was movement, the two empty hands held out, cupped around a drop of gold spilled from some point where brambles pierced alabaster.

That it sprouted into a flower was not a new thing- the area around them was thick with blossoms and vines undoubtedly started from such simple beginnings as well. What was different was the type. Vines curling around fingers, and the flower was not gold, instead a pale lavender. Perhaps it was a strange thing for a creature of Light to create a moonflower, but it had been Azem's- Persephone's favorite.

If Emet was watching, he might see the way the creature seemed to wilt slightly when the lavender color bleached almost immediately to that cold white of everything else, a soft, mournful rasp slipping from it in response to the shift.