"A tradition dating back to antiquated times," came the answer, slightly raspy and somewhat muffled. The speaker stood from the bench they had been sitting at, steepling their fingers as they came to a rest at the lip of the fountain. They smiled, the edges of it crinkling their eyes even if the expression itself was hidden behind their mask.

"It used to be believed that water was a divine gift, you see, and tossing something of value into it was a way to curry favour with the local deity. As time went on, the idea went from 'favour' to 'wish'."

Valdemar looked fondly into the water, down at the wavering glints of copper and silver. When they raised their eyes, something burned intently at the sight of Zagreus. As soon as he had run up, they'd known there was something a little more impressive than the average creature about him - and it wasn't just the burning feet.

"If you're looking for a drink, I'd advise looking for a fountain that has a potable sign on it... unless you do want to catch dysentery, of course."