The words were too similar to the High Sparrow's for her liking. She could feel her chest tighten as the familiar ache returned, normally only brought to the surface by darkness and isolation. 'So you believe you are pure? Perfect? Wholly without sin?' She shook her head, letting it seem that she was simply dismissing his attempt to compliment her.

"You are a septon?" No, that wasn't the word. As there were no maesters (there were healers), septons would be referred to as something else instead. "Forgive me, I mean a man that..." how did she describe the role? "A man that helps spread religion?" It was a crude explanation, but it was the closest she could come up with before shifting towards painful and uncomfortable memories.

"Mark will look after the lichen. He is better suited to sorting what these plants do."