Fern stared at him for a long moment, expression blank but eyes wide and searching, before a smile broke out on her face.
"Good," she said, feeling something near relief. It was tiresome at times, trying to make people see. Trying to make them understand. There was so much fear attached to what people simply couldn't fathom; they would see the Lady, Her ethereal beauty, the way She draped herself in the shadows, and never consider that darkness existed so that light could thrive. One was never complete without the other, and neither were bad.
The Lady was kind, to those who merited Her attention.
"I'm glad to have someone who understands." Her eyes tracked the blood he had gifted to the roses. A worthy sacrifice, if small. It was the willingness to give that was important.