Wapun Meadow Can't wait for quittin' time, comin' around

'Pretty harsh language for a flower'

Cera paused, looking back up towards the woman in curiosity, a tongue running over her nose and eyes squinting in thought. It was a little difficult to tell whether or not this one was still high out of their minds, or if they'd actually noticed the young girl after she'd made noise. The thought of the latter being true was a little intimidating – as if Cera was being played like a fiddle for someone's amusement. It almost made the sea fae hesitant to approach, too –

–but taking a chance to assume it was correct, however, Ceraphina would have not choice but to quench her curiosity and approach.

So she did; slowly, carefully from behind – the muscles in her legs tensing like she'd been prepared to run away if all else went wrong. The mushroom eater was the first wolf she'd come this close to in this strange land, so she might as well try to get some information out of them.

"I don't believe the flowers can talk. To their mothers, either."  The witch explained. Not having read the room or the possibility of it being a joke, and assuming they simply didn't know. Mother had told her there were many ignorant to the ways of the earth, afterall. Cera wanted to teach what others didn't know, just like her. "They blow pollen to create more, but that's all the mother and parent interaction they'll get…oh,"

Ah, introductions. She forgot.

"I'm Ceraphina, I guess."