For my wife, an orchid.. fragile, delicate, and... in essence.. created. Artificial. Her lips' hue has never been that of an innocent, nor the artful shadows about her eyes. I'm not clever, but I'm not a fool. For that girl.. Heulwenn, or Gwynne... she's a Lily of the Valley, I think.. delicate, fragrant.. but something about her seeks the shade, I think.. and may well be deadly. For that kind priest.. Requiem? A flower of Jasmine.. he spoke so soothingly, for all that the word he spoke enraged my very soul.