but ripples on the sweet pink water reveal some company unthought of

Very often, Flora is glad not to have to particularly owe any thanks to higher powers; more carefully expressed: she is glad that she seldom has the chance to take umbrage with such an elevated being.

She's a human, and humans are allotted that privilege to exist as normal. To commune with other humans, furthermore, and to have no such shackles placed on their lives as Blades do, no matter the webstrung pattern of evolution.

However.

Everyone wants to believe in something.

Everyone wants to be loved.

And Flora imagines that she is.

Meyneth herself does not only imagine it.