"It would have been by tomorrow, but we made extra time last night..." The oracle happily accepts the water, taking a slow, savored sip before handing the bottle back to you. "I would imagine we should reach the cave by nightfall..."<br/><br/>After a moment, she looks back at you, and a curious look comes into her eyes.<br/><br/>"Lisra, I think I just realized something..." She gives you a proud smile, and then starts in on a seemingly nonsense string. "Gift... Gy'yt... Rcchn... rygfer... froghan...frisshar-dra..."<br/><br/>The list continues on for a bit, and you actually have to snap your fingers once or twice before she finally circles back to the common tongue.<br/><br/>"Sorry... Basically, if you translate the word "Gift" through the celestial languages, it eventually translates back into common as "the flower of one's heart passed to another." If I used the word "gift" in reverie, and I have the Curse of Tongues... perhaps I actually<em>was</em>referencing the flower..."