Miria awoke, still not used to the soft bed that the Rabonan priests had provided for her. What mystified her further was the fact that there was a vase with a handful of different flowers in it. They were varying colours. Hesitating, wondering what in the world was going on, Miria gently fingered the plants, noting they still had their roots.

"Nice flowers, Miria." Miria whirled around, and found her eyes meeting the startling eyes of Galatea. Again, something she wasn't used to. Somehow, Galatea knew exactly where to stare. Sometimes people forgot she was blind. Miria included.

"Do you have any idea where these came from?" Miria asked, picking the vase up and holding it out to Galatea. The latter gently took a sniff of the bunch, and smiled.

"Apparently a gift from your comrades. Do you know what they all are?"

"Hmm..." Miria gave them a once over. "There are a couple irises, sunflowers, but the rest I don't know."

"Clare was nice enough to give an explanation of the others, so I can tell you what they are, if you want."Miria raised an eyebrow at that. Since when was Clare an expert on flowers? Galatea gently fingered a white-petal flower, one of many on a green stem, ending with a couple not-full-blossomed ones. "Gladiolus, very nice, comes from the western regions..."

"But... how could... whomever it was, gotten it?"

'Clare's constantly running off, yes? They just ask her to get something specific." Galatea went on to gently breathe in a purple bell shaped flower's scent. "Campanula, bluebells to most." Next was a many petalled pink flower, that Miria somewhat remembered-

"Dahlias." Galatea looked up when Miria spoke and chuckled, presumably amused at the latter's emotions, stroking some purplish-blue flowers. "Rosemary... interesting choice. Uhm... what colour are the roses?" Was the number three embarrassed?

"Red... and some white ones. Why, does it matter?" Miria stared at Galatea's face, looking for a reaction.

Galatea sighed; it seemed to Miria, a sigh of relief. "No reason." She continued on. "Statices, coriander... do I really want to know where those came from? Never mind... I think that's it."

"Wait, what about that one? You missed one." Miria gently guided Galatea's hand to one yellow, six-petalled flower, nearly dwarfed by the others. Galatea gently felt it, and a small smile flickered across her face.

"Well that one... the giver of that one specifically told me not to mention it unless you asked. Prefers to stay behind the scenes, I guess. And no, I am not going to tell you who gave it. It's a daffodil. Really Miria, are you that clueless about flowers?"

"I have other things to worry about!" Miria retorted.

"So does Clare. She still knows about flowers anyway. That's a daffodil. Supposed to mean respect, chivalry."

Galatea left Miria standing there, wondering which flower came from which over her comrades. Eventually, the daffodil found its new home right beside the window, along with the rest. Even pseudo-mothers must recognize the efforts of their 'children'.

"Are you sure you've got them down?" Slightly worried.

"Just because I'm blind doesn't mean that I have a goldfish's memory."

"Hey, just checking." Apologetic, for Clare.

"What about this one?"

The sound of Clare turning. "She doesn't ask, don't tell her. I only got it because Tabitha suggested getting flowers." An order, and a lie.

As Clare walked away, Galatea could only grin as she recalled a particular sister thrusting a flower at her, muttering that ma made her give it, seemingly ignoring the fact that the nearest place to find them was the half a day's walk away.