Blacktail Deer Plateau Flowers for gods

wolfsbane. a fitting flower for the nightmother, he thinks, giving a small but sage nod of approval; though he might've switched the pansies and the wolfsbane. it was sithis — him — that was the truly deadly one. nevertheless, he had told her to go off of her perceptions and given that she only knew what information he'd thus far shared with her: she did well.

ingram was, for whatever it meant, impressed.

his gaze follows to each flower presented then for her bear gods: lily and belladona.

for a long moment, ingram is quiet. contemplative. he moves towards the altars, exploring each closer. a soft itch for this threadbones grasps him, but he shakes it off. not here. not now.

his assessment is slow and when he turns to face her, there is a ghost of a smile — something akin to it — upon his scarred lips. a druid no longer, you are now a mage. it was the most fitting rank for her skill set; aligning with what she sought as trade(s).