A snippet for Isabeau's Birthday
Some of our best laid plans don't always come to fruition. This fic started on Isabeau's birthday as part of the prompt. I didn't finish a whole chapter like I wanted, but I did get something done for the occasion. Let it be a WIP for now that I can share with the world.
Seasonal changes are easier to note outside of the city. Late spring claims the trees with bright blooms, and the fields along the road are overflowing with flora of every size. The mixture of shades, the various textures and configurations of flowers, like a bouquet freeroaming the countryside, conquering the horizon in the valley you and Mirabelle are traveling through… It’s breathtaking. In this moment, you know leaving Jouvente was the right decision. “Isabeau?” You blink, turning to the housemaiden in front of you. “Mira?” “Are you… um…” She fidgets with her skirt. “Do you want to go back? Y-You don’t have to come with me…” Surprised, you bark out a loud laugh, making her jump. “No, Mira, I’m good.” Her shoulders relax just a fraction. She seems to do that whenever you use the nickname you gave her. “Um. Then, what are you looking at?” “The flowers,” you say, glancing back at the field. “I only ever saw them in window boxes or flower pots back in the city. I’ve never seen so many in person before.” So many different types. You often stared through the florist’s window, marveling at the many kinds they had, and it couldn’t compare to the variety here. If Change came in many variations, did you have this much potential for Change, too? Magnitudes bigger outside of the cramped, suffocating city? Away from the people who stifled you? Would you have space to grow out here? Time would tell, you suppose.
