Just one of the flowers

Though Kiela didn't tend to be a very expressive female overall, her current confusion was easily enough discerned - though subtle, it was noticeable if you looked for longer than a moment. It was clear to her that he hadn't died, and even more clear that she wasn't an angel. The concept of spirits was not at all uncommon in her upbringing, but angel had an entirely different connotation, one she couldn't even begin to entertain the idea of. Clearly she was no less an angel than he was. In more familiar company, she likely would've snorted indignantly at the thought, but around a stranger she was far more reserved and deliberate.

"Hyacinth," she repeated his name, finding it odd on her tongue. It was a softer name than most she was accustomed to and felt strangely uneven to speak. But introductions were quickly swept aside as he explained what he'd meant. He was calling her pretty. It was a compliment she'd never heard. In her youth she remembered a few of her peers being impressed by her sharp intellect and her obvious strength as she towered above them, not necessarily her looks. She wasn't quite sure what to say, except.. "Oh," she started, pausing as she tried to catch her tongue. "You are pretty too. Your.. colors. Remind me of the revontulet. The... northern lights, they are called?" She was not trying to compliment him to be nice; he was quite pretty, and his colors were unlike anything she'd ever seen before.