Nanshe had chosen green to wear, but upon receiving the rose, she decided a change was in order. After a few whispered words of shielding in a tongue long ago dead, her dress slid into the color matching the blossom between her fingers.
And then she grinned at Morpheus. She supposed she could turn some heads, if she were on his arm while she did it.
"I'm a moneylender," she whispered to Morpheus, knowing that he'd get the humor in that nearly immediately. No one else would. Given Nanshe's divine purview over the poor, the widowed, and the orphaned, word had spread quickly about the rates Nanshe'd been offering the truly deserving. True, she wasn't making a lot of money, but that was hardly troubling to a goddess.