#rosdaite

          𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒,   expression always a little antagonistic though he hardly intends to be ――   and when her gaze finally catches his,   he vaguely points to his hair.     “ You’ve got there…   something. ”     POLLEN.   Like golden speckles of dust in a crimson ocean of hair,   RADIANT similar to a halo.   Vaguely remembers seeing her gather herbs in the forest ――   would assume so,   considering the BASKET in her arms.   The pollen count is high at this time of the year;   all trees and shrubs coming back to LIFE in the warm breeze of early spring.   He nods in her direction,   insinuates it’s not as bad as he made it out to be ――   and says eventually,   with the slightest implication of amusement on the tip of his tongue,     “ Suits you. ”

“I don’t know how you do it.” His tone is caught somewhere between incredulity and appreciation.

Alec has no talent for these things. Despite an abortive attempt to follow his father into a medicine, he’s since found that his skills lie in the realm of words. He can recognise the importance of it, though - the importance of healing people, in all the possible ways that one can.

He has always been of the belief that it takes a special calibre of person to be able to do so, but there’s no bitterness in the fact that he doesn’t belong with them. He just feels lucky that he’s managed to come across a handful of them in his life.