[Viktor glances as Kyle, then huffs a little laugh.]

I hadn't thought of it like that.

[He enforced no hierarchy in the commune, of course, but they called him the Herald anyway. Viktor understands how this must look, to Kyle, even if he gets the sense that his relationship with his own god is reframed, as of late. It isn't lost on him, that he dresses differently in the Horizon.

Viktor's hand brushes Kyle's arm, leading him into the greenhouse. He reaches for the large frond of one of the plants, skimming his fingers across it.]

These cultivars...hybrids, for reclaiming the soil and water. Cleaning the air. The yellow flowers that you see were the most successful.