and the light will set us free
he steps into the small floral shop and lets the scents of the room cascade over him, sweets and bitters, colors and flavors, a thickness that threatens to overtake him, coaxing him to simply shut his eyes for a moment and remember what eternal fields felt like to wade through, back when the world was young and virginic, back when the highest buildings could go was a good eight meters up, back when entire hills rested untouched, unsullied, unknown by humanity, full of flowers waving in the breeze. he remembers how tall they climbed towards the ever-shining sun, how it felt to have fought for this, burned for this, won all this. lost all this.
he opens his eyes and takes a few more steps inside, his eyes meanders through the shelves and decorative fountains of greenery and vines, everything offerable for any occasion, any dalliance, all your party-planning needs, and he can’t help himself from grinning loosely at the silliness of some of the plants. design flaws perhaps, he couldn’t say-- he’s not the god of flowers, fortunately. but at least they are all entertaining and if there’s one thing he can say for certain, it’s that it’s definitely taking effort coming here and doing this. it’s not really his style, but then… he’s trying something new. for someone new.
he hears a person, a girl from the edge of her breathing, come in from behind him, feels her presence behind the counter, that earth and green atmosphere coiling off her in waves, and determines that she obviously works here, come to help or check him out, but before she can speak, he’s already voicing his dilemma. “how do you get flowers that say ‘i want to be your family even though i’ve missed the last… couple thousand years of your life.’” he pauses without looking back, studying a great big bloom of sunflower. “wait, actually, i don’t even know how long she’s been alive, so maybe not a couple thousand years.”