Delia ducks her head at that, smiling. Brushing past Alanna, the girl reached over and plucked a rose from the dead bush. Letting her mask fall to the snow-covered ground, she cupped the full bloom in her hands. It was a deep, purple-black, and made her skin almost glow.

"Shall we see? Black roses are for mourning, white for purity, yellow for jealousy..."as she speaks each colour, the rose changes to match; a snowy, glowing white; a vibrant yellow; a deep, blood-red..."and red is for passion." Delia pauses, and when she looks at Alanna, her green eyes are a mystery.

"Which colour do you think it should be, Squire Alan?"