Delight swirled, pervaded, and exuded throughout the glassy interior, friends certain of companions’ whereabouts, amiable conversation floating back and forth, rapture, structure, and healing notes curling through their merry fronds and merciful exploits. It warmed her heart even more, to help, to assist, to ensure there was safety, security, a sanctuary in the mountain haven – to anyone and everyone – and her breath settled, tender and fond, along the affectionate grounds of the greenhouse. She listened for the most part, taking Mortuus Nox’s offerings and placing the herbs where appropriate, avoiding the wandering of Imogen and Nimue as they drew to each and every column of the glossy venue; trying not to laugh in merriment, trying not to pulse with the sheer thrill of their coming together. Her hums started regardless, bright, beautiful melodies soaking into ferns and dew, into petals and stems, stalks and leaves, softening with each intake of air but still remaining just the same – steady, stalwart, a touch of valor and soothing convictions in the thrumming wake of restlessness and exuberance.
 
The others imparted their wisdom on potential herbs, and she watched, waited, ears shifting, grin rapturous and fluid, eyes drifting to the chosen plants and their assuaging capabilities. Everyone’s sagacity was paramount, driven by the legions of earnestness, by the shields of glory, by the willpower to ensure deliverance despite any circumstance (here she strived to not think about the chaos beyond their walls, to not wonder how many other casualties could’ve been sunken into the marsh). She was proud of all of them, and it showed with her smile, with her elegance, with her tender embrace of their knowledge, hoping to proffer hers in return. Her gaze shifted to Lyanna, then to a plant of her choosing, maw dulcet and silken over the ivory strands, the growing berries. “I’m not certain if they could help your friend, but elderberries are known for treating some allergies and boosting respiratory health.” She paused, contemplating, but without knowing the root cause of her kins’ ailment, she couldn’t go much further. “You could serve them crushed, in some water, and see if it improves anything? They also grow quite rapidly and take to a variety of soil, so if they prove useful, you can surely add some to your gardens.” Perhaps Lyanna and her companion would be lucky and served adequately by the healing efforts of their plants – or, maybe, the sickness would be too much, and could only be renewed, revitalized, regenerated by the Gods’ themselves.