Myla blinks and turns. She'd been staring at the thing in her hand--the nothing in her hand in Dirtmouth--and didn't know he was here. She stares at him instead in absolute confusion for a long moment before remembering. "Oh! Hello, Relic Seeker, sir."

She looks back at the empty air, and then down to the Knight. They're still, from mask to wings.

And filling with a quiet, familiar dread. They can't see what Myla's holding, but there's only one she that she must mean in this context. She'd left their Siblings to swim back, and they'd passed that along, but they don't even need that much.

"It's not a real g-grown flower. It's made of metal? Like all the rest there. It's really g-good c-craftsmanship, actually," she mumbles to herself, turning so the petals gleam.