She nods at that. There's sense in it. 

She goes deeper into the flower, seeking the Prophouse.

The buildings here don't exactly explain what they are from the outside. There are greenhouses, and apartments, and closed offices of some kind, and utility buildings of unclear purpose.

But that place that looks a bit like a workshop, with pieces of three different sets visible through the wide door, must be the Prophouse?

She'll try it. 

"Excuse me," she says, rapping gently on a sturdy-looking set. "Is this the Prophouse?"

Voices come from around the side of the sets. "Who's asking? Are you with the collectors?!"

"George! There's no- What is it this week? Yes, this is it! Come on in, just don't break anything! Don't mind George!"

She steps in gingerly past the sets and takes her first look around the prophouse from the inside.

Sets, rigging, tools, paper mache, plasterboard, and paint are scattered around in a chaotic mess. The two voices are working on some kind of giant scrive-spinster puppet.

George declares, "You look like a sailor. The ludos are enemies with the Tacketies, so you're probably safe."

The other man says, "...George, do you wanna go paint the castle set you were working on?"

"No, we've got to finish this. It's almost done."

"Alright. Hello miss. Please don't mind... The mess."

"It looks like a productive mess. The person who reccommended you to me said you used Science to build the latest art?"

"Oh, well, sort of? We have some nice molding techniques and paint, and we receive shipments from the Royal Society sometimes. Soft Amber has a really nice unsettling lifelikeness for it, it's good for monsters and gore. But I personally don't go out of my way to put science in the art, I just make the props the best I can. Sometimes that means using the Benthic's latest frippery, sometimes that means finding a local plant or animal with parts that look right, sometimes that means paint and beaverboard and paper-mache."

"What's soft amber? I've never heard of that before. And beaverboard?"

"Beaverboard is just, like, thin wood that's no good for actual construction. For cases and such. Soft amber is something the Rubbery Men make, and it's apparently got all sorts of scientific uses, but we use it as a flesh substitute. Looks like it, recyclable, and doesn't rot, though it goes soft and melts above about ninety degrees."

"They use it for alchemy and shape-changing!"

"..Huh. I'm not actually sure if I believe that."

"You should. It's true. Come help with this lever, you two, it's stuck. Sabotage?"

"It's not sabotage. Just wear and tear. I'm Sergo, by the way, miss. Lend a hand?"

She goes and lends a hand, since there's no reason for her not to. She has the clear impression that this is rather a "pitch in where you can" kind of community, and she likes it. 

Does she want to play with some soft amber and red dye? They need a lot of 'mangled bits' for a particularly macabre play in the works, she can learn and help at the same time!

She would love to. How does it handle, what does it look like undyed, what does the red dye do to it? There is so much to discover!

It handles like modeling clay or play-doh, especially when warmed by one's hands, but is reasonably firm It looks pale and tan and it really does seem like flesh, though it glistens when warm. It accepts dye eagerly, shading and blending well, and they tell her you can melt it and let the dye separate out to 'clean' it. Here's how you stick these little wig-pieces in! That's how they did the werewolf costume, though getting it to move realistically was a challenge too!

Ooh, clever! She practices putting the little wig-pieces in and shaping the clay-like soft amber. She asks if she can buy a piece of warm amber to keep.

Eh, she can just have a chunk if it's, like, a finger's worth. A fist's worth would be a few shillings.

She'll toss in a few shillings for a fist's worth. Thank you kindly for the sample, and now she's on to explore some more in the single days she has. She's been to the poetry house and to singing and to the plays and to here, now. What else is there to see?

It's well into the afternoon now. There's the gardens, filled with flowers and other plants and public art. The Stamen Gallery has been mentioned several times and sounds like a painting exhibition. And someone promised 'visceral experiences', which normally would probably mean either sex or drugs, but in a colony of artists who knows?

She goes in search of the Stamen Gallery. She can find more visceral things at night when they're best appreciated. 

The Stamen Gallery proves to be at one of the highest points on the flower, with a very high roof, open floor plan, and wide stained glass windows. It seems expensive.

The paintings on exhibit are honestly pretty good, at least in technical quality. There are a variety of styles in play, from realism to impressionism to vague shapes and forms and colors that evoke a scene without actually putting any detail on the canvas. The choice of subjects is... Slanted pretty strongly towards sexual? That seems to be the central theme of the Stamen Gallery. It's mostly pretty tasteful and suggestive, not explicit. Also, lots of flower imagery.

She laughs when she realizes the theme of the subject matter, out loud where everyone can hear her. She covers it, but - she is so amused that everyone here is apparently into sexuality. It's like she's discovered another shared interest in a friend. 

She goes and finds a garden to walk in while she ponders on "visceral experiences."

And who should see her from a higher-up petal and then rush down to meet her, but Lenora?

She turns a corner with a grin, carrying a rose.

"You seem happy! This is for you. Don't worry, I paid for it."

"It's a very alive place, full of light and color. It kind of fits my ethos, in a way. I'm not sure if I'd want to live here but I think it would be a lot of fun. And thank you for the rose." She accepts it gingerly, careful of its thorns. 

"Yeah, Titania is fun to visit but I don't want to live here either. Especially not when the Chorister Bees get riled up." Her expression falls for a moment. "You're welcome. It has thorns, you see... I have something to put it in too, if you'd rather not carry around a flower."

"There must be a rose to every thorn, hm? I see the logic, and I'll take the carrying case. And while Chorister Bee attacks are not exactly my cup of tea either, I could maybe learn to tolerate them. I'm built that way."