[The plant is... quieter... than Rosethorn expected. Almost any plant leans toward her or reaches for her on her approach, and for one known to actively attack intruders, the lack of obvious movement seems a little strange.
She stretches out a small tendril of green magic, waiting for a sense of some sort of emotion from the plant. Most are happy to see her, but she doesn't know what this one will feel. She's braced for attack, ready to shout a warning or use her magic in her least favorite way. When she speaks, it isn't aloud, and only the plant can hear her.] Hello.
[Rosethorn waits for an idea of where the plant stands before saying anything of significance.]
no subject
She stretches out a small tendril of green magic, waiting for a sense of some sort of emotion from the plant. Most are happy to see her, but she doesn't know what this one will feel. She's braced for attack, ready to shout a warning or use her magic in her least favorite way. When she speaks, it isn't aloud, and only the plant can hear her.] Hello.
[Rosethorn waits for an idea of where the plant stands before saying anything of significance.]