#fawnseer

In the garden is a fawn. In the garden is a beast. One pulls flowers by their roots from freshly turned soil because they couldn’t have survived the conditions this high in altitude. The beast probably should have told her that but she’s found out well enough on her own. It’s still a waste of pretty blooms although those petals curl at the edges with rot so bad it spreads even from the stems. The beast crouches to brush his fingertips to the dirt. There’s no imagining how the green that does thrive shimmers like the night sky the closer he gets to touching them. He stops just short of purchase before @fawnseer can protest his interfering.

“Are you unhappy here, Elain?” He hadn’t thought to ask before. After all, what could be worse than that poor hovel in the human lands the Archeron sisters once called home? And certainly the City of Dreams could provide far better. Anything they wanted, truly. All for the tidy fee of war, of course. Rhys turns his head, an animal movement, and one perfect eyebrow crests regally. In certain light, the middle sister blooms. In others... “If this is about the bond, I have been thoroughly threatened to remind you that you need not make any decisions in a timely manner. I hope this eases your conscience.”