The candles smell sweet, imports of wax from the Hive in ages past, though the Knight can't know. They're just thinking of lights, and how dull everything looks under lumafly-light; most places beyond Hallownest don't have them.

Dirtmouth, at least, might have a few appreciators. They don't have illusions of much below. Fire is orange, after all.

(The Radiance, they drowned and died to inside Dream and out, but the cold light of the White Palace hooked into their mind worse.)

They scavenge a couple bowls and cutlery, chosen for sturdiness over looks, and flutter back to Lemm's side.

They pause. A park. It's only natural a City would have such, but--hm. They wait for Lemm to lead the way again.