Cosette loved flowers. She didn't have much of a green thumb, so every plant she would put in her little home often died, but she always thought they were pretty while they lasted. They bloomed elegantly, awaking to the spring sun. She didn't know much about it, but whenever she thought of the definition of beautiful, she would think of flowers, all types and colors. It was a shame she couldn't keep them that way, in all their glory. Still, in a way, they would be making them into something just as beautiful. Well, if she could figure out how to do this.

With a woven basket in tow, she had set out towards the lake, where plenty of flora grew. She was grateful for the oasis as it offered both safety from the desert's heat and pleasant scenery. It was somewhat disappointing that they would be moving further into the territory. Nevertheless, she didn't bother complaining, instead doing what had been asked of her. She circled the water source and plucked the colorful plants, dumping each of them into the basket for her to carry back to camp. She smiled softly, pleased with her collection so far; there were all sorts of colors, ranging from red to blue and everything else in between, making sure to get enough of yellow, her favorite color.

The female almost forgot that she didn't know how to change them into paints--or that she would have to in the first place. Once she was done and had filled it up to the brim, however, she remembered just what her task had been. Oh, right. She huffed, scratching at her cheek absent-mindedly. Was she just supposed to press them into paste? And were they supposed to be wet or dry? Who knew? Definitely not her. So she sat there and stared down at the basket, hoping someone would come to her rescue and show her how to do it.

Her head lifts up suddenly at the voice despite it's quietness, a look of alarm on her face before it melts into one that's more at ease, a smile settling on her lips. She couldn't help making a small constricted noise similar to a laugh, though it was more out of nervousness than anything, eyes flicking back down at her flowers for a moment. What would he think if she explained it to him? Well, the worst he could do is laugh and just walk away. At least she could stop staring at them like some weirdo.

"Um, I was told to paint one of the pyramids. But, well, uh, I don't..know how to make paint," she lowers her voice to a mumble as she confesses the last part. Now she would just wait for his response, whether it be him helping her with or without laughing at her for being so ignorant. It was just one of many basic things she had never learned or been taught.