Flowers and emotions are born during shy spring,
To burst into bloom in the light of the summer sun.
Weeks flew by like the returning birds in the sky high above, and the crisp, pastel beauty of spring ripened into the lush richness of summer. Sylphiel's garden exploded with life, becoming a wilderness in miniature. Framed by towering labyrinths of lilac hedges persuaded by her white magic to bloom long into summer, flowers spread their intoxicating scent through summer's bright nights and warm days.
She opened her eyes with a smile, remained still for a while, absent-mindedly listening to the birds tittering in the oak trees outside her window. A neatly defined ray of sunlight had managed to sneak through her curtains and spread a warm light in the room as it curiously investigated its surroundings. As the blue curtains moved lazily in a warm breeze, the light flickered and danced, then became still again as the wind moved on.
She sighed as she let her thoughts run free. It was a day like any other, and yet it was special. Today marked a milestone in her life. She was twenty years old.
She sat up and stretched, then stood and walked over to the bureau, opened one of the drawers and produced her hairbrush. As she began brushing the tangles out of her blue-tinted hair she met her own gaze in the mirror.
She had just turned seventeen when Sairaag was destroyed. Three years had passed since then, time sometimes rushing past her fast as a stormwind, leaving her lost and confused, sometimes slowing down like a dying heartbeat to stagger one tedious day at a time towards the future. She had not often thought about the time that had passed. Not until today, when the special date made her stop and remember.
"Has it been three years already?" she thoughtfully asked her mirror image as she brushed her hair. She received no response.
Three years since the fall of Sairaag, she thought. Two years since the battle against Hellmaster.
And four months since the rebirth of Flagoon.
She smiled ruefully and put her hairbrush down, unbuttoning her nightgown to get dressed. The last four months certainly had been... intense. Many dizzying events had occurred during such a short period of time. Life certainly wasn't boring with him around, she thought with a resigned little smile. One long roller-coaster of confusing emotions, all the way. Looking back she had to admit she hadn't been so thrilled about life for a long time.
Finally dressed she opened her door to descend the stairs. It was still early, the light of dawn filtering in through the windows as she walked through the living room to open the door to the garden, letting the scent of dew-covered flowers inside.
Birthday. The annual celebration of the date on which one was born.
Born.
Ah, yes.
For some reason it didn't bother him as much as he had thought it would. He realized the entire matter of birth versus creation wasn't really all that important anymore. Perhaps Sylphiel was right. The way life was given to you didn't matter; it was what you made of it that counted.
So, that wasn't the problem.
However, on these birthdays it was tradition to give the celebrated person a gift.
That was the problem.
As he got up and dressed he once again pondered that particular matter. He really ought to give her something. He owed her a great deal, and he wanted to repay her kindness in some way.
All fine. But what on earth to give her?
She seemed content living this simple life, though she was born a noble. She didn't care for riches or wealth. Anything ethereal she could summon through her own magic.
So what could a person like him give her? He had never attended a birthday party before, he had no idea what was appropriate to give.
He sighed.
If he gave her something too insignificant she might think him selfish. If he gave her something too grand he might seem garish. Or something. It all seemed terribly complicated.
He frowned, sat down on the bed and looked around the room, trying to come up with something that would not be too awkward to give the girl. A jewel, perhaps? He could summon some rather interesting artifacts from Rezo's hidden treasures. Then again, she seemed to prefer a flower in her hair rather than the necklaces she had inherited from her mother. A book? Somehow he doubted she would find tomes on Dark Magic too thrilling. Something pretty? Sure. But what?
So. Something not too insignificant, not too grand, preferably pretty - and something that would not, in any way, bring back memories of the city of Sairaag.
He sighed again, and looked around the room one last time. His eyes fell on the leaf tucked under a book in his bookshelf.
The guests were about to arrive in any minute. It was obvious that fact did not delight him. He tugged agitatedly at his collar as if it was too tight, and paced the kitchen like a cornered cat. She made the last preparations to the cake and resignedly shook her head.
"You'll wear tracks in the floor."
He stopped and shot her a surprised look, then scowled again.
"It's really not that bad," she assured him while sprinkling thin flakes of chocolate over the cake.
"You already know Misha, and there really won't be that many others. Besides, it's about time your staying here is made official."
His look turned to one of unveiled suffering, though whether it was because of the prospect of getting scrutinized by a crowd of strangers, or meeting the outspoken tailor woman again was unclear. She put the finishing touches to the cake, then turned around.
"I need to go get changed. Could you put the cake and silverware on the table?"
He nodded somewhat sulkily and reached for the plate with the cake as she left. Absentmindedly his gaze was drawn towards the shelves above the stove, with their jars of spices. Almost as an afterthought Sylphiel called over her shoulder, without turning around:
"And don't even think of putting cinnamon on the cake - or I'll give you away to Misha."
Quickly tearing his gaze away from the cinnamon jar he frowned.
"Spoilsport," he muttered under his breath, then headed for the temporary table in the living room with his chocolate-covered burden.
As he placed the heavy platter on the table he looked out the window and spotted a blur of green and gray in the branches of the apple tree, and he sighed. The conceited little cat had disappeared as soon as the preparations for the party had begun, determined to avoid the common guests.
Apparently it had chosen the ancient apple tree its favorite hiding place. He wouldn't have cared, if it wasn't for the fact the little creature refused to come down again afterwards, and Sylphiel in turn refused to leave the cat outside all night. Since the elderly branches were so gnarled and tangled it was impossible to levitate up to help the obnoxious animal down – one would have to climb. For some inexplicable reason it had become his duty to rescue the animal whenever she climbed up the tree.
Sometimes he could have sworn she did it just for fun.
He shot the affronting tree one last glare, then headed back towards the kitchen. As if this day wasn't awkward enough as it was...
Passing the stairs on his way towards the kitchen he almost walked into to Sylphiel who was heading in the same direction. Both were caught unprepared and instinctively retreated a step. His automatic words of apology died on his tongue as he got a better look at her.
In honor of the day she had shed her usual Shrine Maiden's garb for a light summer dress with short wide sleeves and a broad silk sash. The color was a bluish purple, somewhat richer than the shades she usually dressed in, and part of her hair was braided back to form a wreath crowning her head.
Recovering, she tugged at the skirt, with a just slightly self-conscious gesture, obviously not used to the feeling of the loose clothing. As she stood there, she seemed both attractive woman and awkward girl at the same time, radiating a strange innocent beauty. Somehow she must have sensed his surprise because she smoothed out the skirt yet again, raising her eyebrows.
"Well?"
He blinked.
"Well what?"
She frowned just a little and turned around so that the soft skirt billowed around her.
"Do you like it?"
Did he? The sight of the loose, flimsy material both concealing and bringing out the shape of her body made all kinds of interesting new feelings tickle through him, and made his ears burn in the most curious way. Not quite prepared to deal with that he quickly composed himself and sketched a flowery bow, playing the part of the gentleman.
"Enchanting."
She bit her lip and gave him a somewhat suspicious look, as if his theatrical reaction might conceal some sort of sarcasm or mockery, but before she could say anything a knock on the door shattered the tense moment and she brushed past him to open.
Misha, smiling as ever, swept into the house like a wild breeze with two children in tow. Her golden ponytail was a bit muddled and askew as usual, and her glittering eyes and dimples made her face radiate mirth like a miniature sun.
"Sylphiel! Happy birthday honey, so wonderful to see you again! How have you been? Been a while, hasn't it? Here you are, now give me a hug."
She shoved a small whimsically wrapped parcel into the young girls arms, then caught her in a warm hug, almost making her lose her balance in the process.
He stood well out of the way, as if futilely hoping he could thus avoid her attention. No such luck; as soon as the small woman had let go of the blue-haired girl she advanced on him with almost frightening determination.
He braced himself and managed not to wince as she tried to give him the same kind of bear-hug she had bestowed the girl. Because of her none-too impressive height she ended up hugging his waist, but that didn't seem to subdue her enthusiasm at all.
"We meet again, my tall friend! Seems Sylphiel hasn't grown tired of you yet, eh? Too bad. She has promised me I can take over if she ever does."
She laughed, a warm laugh, then reached up to adjust his shirt a little.
"Misha," he managed with a polite nod. She grinned up at him.
"I don't think you've met my kids, have you? Poyke, Furika, come say hello to Greywers-san!"
The two children who had been chatting and chirping with Sylphiel turned and looked at him. The boy was as blond and mischievous as his mother, whereas the little girl had pale green hair and thoughtful eyes.
"Hello, Greywers-san," they dutifully said in unison, then dashed off to play.
"Is it alright if they play in the garden, Sylli-chan?" Misha asked as the pair disappeared through the back door. Sylphiel, still holding her birthday gift and looking slightly winded nodded with a little smile.
"You'd better tell them to stay in the garden, though. We wouldn't want them to fall in the creek beyond the lilac hedge."
Misha nodded and marched over to the door to talk to her children. When she was out of sight Sylphiel turned to him with a thoughtful frown.
"I should have thought of this sooner. You need a decent name. I can't just introduce you to everyone as 'Greywers'."
He realized she was right.
"But what?" he asked. Somehow he felt it was an important decision, one that should really not be rushed like this. She shrugged uncertainly.
"I don't know. What do you think? It's your name."
"Anything but Rezo."
"That is a little loose," she remarked, just slightly sardonically,
"Can't you be a little more specific?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but just then Misha returned into the small living room.
"Well, hopefully they'll stay in the garden now. Never know with those little imps. You know what people say, there are three ways to get something done; do it yourself, hire someone to do it, or forbid your children to do it. Anyways! Do you need help with anything, Sylphiel? I can go help in the kitchen."
Before Sylphiel had a chance to speak the short woman disappeared into the kitchen, humming to herself, and started arranging the dishes in the sink. The blue-haired girl just shook her head with a resigned smile, then turned back to him.
"Well?"
"I really don't know. Don't you have any suggestions? What do you think when you think of me?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, blushing a little. She turned away and fiddled with the present Misha had given her.
"I... just never really thought about it either. Just... I don't know."
He remained silent, watching her.
"So I am still just the 'Kopii Rezo' to you," he said. His voice was quiet; it wasn't a question.
"No!" she said and turned back.
"That's not... I mean... I don't know."
She looked down on her hands. He watched her in silence for a moment, then sighed.
"Either way, you are the one with most experience with names of the two of us. Just suggest something. We're running out of time, the guests will be here soon."
She bit her lip in concentration and looked him over as if really seeing him for the first time.
"Hmm. Tanin?"
He snorted.
"That's as bad as Kopii. How about Migoto?"
She snorted and shot back;
"How about Tengu..?"
The looked at each other, then both reluctantly grinned.
"Okay, alright, " she stated, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Seriously, now. How about Antares? That's the name of the main character in one of my favorite fairy tales. He was a powerful sorcerer too."
He seemed to consider the suggestion, repeating the name as if tasting the sound of it.
"I think I read that story. He was the one who wished to be the highest being in the world, am I right? And so the Lord of Nightmares decided to teach him a lesson, and granted his wish by making him a star in the sky."
She blushed and nodded.
"Well, yes. I never thought that was a sad ending, though. Being a star in the sky is a beautiful way of living forever."
He gave her a crooked grin.
"How fitting, then. Alright, why not. Antares, eh? I'll just have to get used to it."
Any further discussion was interrupted as there was another knock on the door, and she walked away from him to open.
People. Lots of them, curious and obtrusive.
He was the center of everyone's attention, and he did not like it. Limelight was a lot of fun as long as you were in control, he mused as he automatically replied to some small-talk question from a wrinkled old woman to his left. As soon as you lost that control, it just turned uncomfortable.
"Oh, tell us Antares-san, how did you and Sylphiel meet? She mentioned something about Sairaag..."
He winced slightly and scanned the crowd to see if there was any chance on heaping all the questions over on Sylphiel. The blue-haired girl was entertaining her own little flock in the opposite corner of room, smiling and laughing. No escape there.
"Oh, that's a very long story," he answered evasively.
"We had some mutual acquaintances that brought us together. It was several years ago."
"And now you're living in her house," the old woman said, with the kind of hearty smile that obviously hid a disapproving expression,
"I must say it's interesting to meet you in person. I was wondering what it was really all about when I first heard the rumor of Sylphiel living with a stranger like that, and..."
He groaned inwardly as the old gossip began retelling some of the more colorful of the rumors apparently circulating the countryside. With a polite, if somewhat forced smile glued to his lips he pretended to listen to her, wishing he could have gotten away with a fireball or two.
He was seriously beginning to ponder whether Poohti would mind some company up in the stillness of that apple tree of hers.
People. Good friends, warm smiles. But oh-so curious.
She answered their questions with carefully formulated phrases that could be interpreted in about any way possible, making people believe they had received an answer when in fact they didn't know more than before.
Who was he? What was he doing there? Apparently the jungle drums had been beating vigorously since the two of them had first been spotted together in Inaka some months back; all kinds of interesting rumors flapped about the countryside like a murder of crows.
A grain of truth here and there made her story credible, but that was about it. She knew she could never tell these people the truth, a dark truth she herself had left behind in pursuit of something better.
"No, Neriko-san, I'm not considering marriage for quite a while yet, I assure you," she managed to get out as reply to another outrageous question. Good grief!
These people were her best friends, people who loved her and looked up to her; but most of them were rather simple folk. In a strange way the company of those she had always considered close even further emphasized the strange understanding she had come to share with her odd houseguest. She still loved her friends, but she knew they could never again fill her life like before. Not now, when she had found something deeper and beyond common friendship.
She shot the tall man in question a brief glance and couldn't help smiling at his suffering expression. For all the world the courteous gentleman, his distress was still obvious if you knew what to look for. Still smiling she turned back to the people in front of her and continued not to answer their questions.
He had hoped the food and drink would restrain the flood of questions and gossip. He had been wrong.
Since there were too many guests for all to sit by the table, everyone had just grabbed a plate and wandered around the living room and kitchen, chatting with each other. Before he'd had a chance to even taste the slice of chocolate cake on his plate, he had been cornered by a group of people who just wouldn't stop asking questions. Making up a credible answer once was bad enough, but answering the same questions over and over so many times he'd lost count made it even worse.
His temper was heading downhill and he was sullenly considering using a more or less harmless sleep-spell to be left alone when Misha unexpectedly came to the rescue.
Wielding her plate like a shield she penetrated the human barrier surrounding him and grabbed him by the arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Ah! Greywers! Sylphiel promised me you'd show me her pretty garden! Really sweet of you, come on. Sorry people, I'll grab him for a while, talk to you all later."
And with that she simply led the way through the crowd like a very small and very determined tug, leading him through the back door and out into the blissfully quiet garden.
"You looked like you could need some help," she explained as she walked away from the cottage,
"Those magpies can be a pain when they have some fresh meat to bite into. So can I of course, but I'm a lot better at biting."
He grinned helplessly down at her.
"Misha, I never thought I'd say this, but thank you. A few moments more and I would have done something violent."
She stopped between two willows and studied him with a thoughtful expression.
"We can go back inside then, if you like. I personally wouldn't miss them."
He shook his head.
"I don't think Sylphiel would have appreciated me blowing up her living room."
Misha grinned at him and sat down on the stone bench between the willows, playing with their lithe tendrils. The sound of children laughing drifted through the garden from the far corner by the lilacs.
"Probably not, no. I understand those things easily go out of control. One big crater in the vicinity is quite enough."
To his surprise he realized he didn't mind the little woman's company that much anymore. Though her sense of humor was rather pointed and quite indecent, she had a refreshing view on life. He leaned back against one of the willows and finally remembered his chocolate cake. They remained silent for a while, watching the sunlight play over the grass as the trees moved in a soft summer breeze.
"I lost my husband in Sairaag, you know," Misha suddenly stated. He gave her a surprised look; she sounded unusually solemn.
"Oh? " he managed, not knowing what to say. She nodded.
"I'm possibly the only person alive that don't grieve what happened there. It's tragic a lot of innocent people died, of course, but for me personally it was probably the best thing that could happen."
He frowned, once again forgetting about the cake.
"But... You just said..?"
"I lost my husband, yes. Maybe it's wrong of me, but I don't miss him. He was not a good man. What he did to me I could handle, but I was always worried abut my children. It was because of one of his outbursts I was staying with my cousin in a village nearby when Sairaag was destroyed."
He wasn't used to seeing this serious side of the small woman, and it confused him.
"Why are you telling me this?" he finally asked, deciding her own frankness would probably be the best way to handle the situation. She gave him her usual lop-sided smile, but her eyes were still serious.
"Because maybe then you won't just think of me as an annoying pest."
He opened his mouth to assure her of course he didn't, then closed it again as he realized she had a point. Sensing his hesitation her grin widened.
"There are two other reasons, though. I tell you this because I think you can understand what I'm talking about. I saw that in your eyes the very first time we met. I recognize that kind of pain."
He realized her assumption had hit home, and his face clouded over as he remembered Eris.
"Do you remember what I told you then? About not letting dark memories of your past ruin the rest of your life?" she continued. He nodded reluctantly.
"They almost did," he conceded. Striving to get off the uncomfortable subject he focused on what she had said a minute before.
"And the third reason?"
Her hands rested in her lap, and her face was calm as she looked up at him.
"The third reason I told you is because I think it's important that you know my feelings on the matter, considering I know you are the one who destroyed the city of Sairaag three years ago."
He just stared at her, suddenly cold inside, completely taken aback by her confession. Just as things were finally going his way, and life actually seemed to run smoothly, this happened.
Misha studied his face closely, then nodded to herself.
"If I had any doubts before, they're gone now," she commented.
"How, " he whispered, his voice suddenly hard and all but threatening even to his own ears,
"How did you know?"
Unfazed she leaned back and crossed her legs.
"Sylphiel and I have been close friends since she settled down to live here. Of course she has told me what happened during the battles of Sairaag. She described you pretty well back then, albeit in rather unflattering terms. It's funny how a tall man with purple hair and such unusual eyes should show up around here out of nowhere, about the same time as Flagoon returned to the world, ne? I may seem simple, but I'm certainly not stupid. I can put two and two together."
He realized he was still standing there holding the plate with the cake, and quickly lowered his hand to put it down on the bench, never taking his eyes off her.
"And what are you going to do now? Does Sylphiel know that you know?" he asked, struggling to regain control of the situation. The blond woman shook her head.
"I haven't told her, and I see no reason to do so. As for what I'm going to do, that depends. I trust Sylphiel's judgement. If she has seen fit to let bygones be bygones, then I certainly won't stalk into the situation and mess it all up again."
He studied her, trying to determine whether she could really be trusted. He felt strangely deceived, as if her previous kindness had only been an act to lure him into carelessness, to betray who he really was. Angrily he turned his back on her to leave, but stopped as she spoke again.
"I do demand one thing, though, in return for my silence."
He stiffened and slowly turned back towards her. What would a woman like Misha ask for? Would it be like with Eris all over again? He calculated the distance between them. Maybe he would be forced to kill her after all, to make sure she wouldn't talk...
No.
Killing would only make things worse; then the secret she guarded would be moot. Besides she was one of Sylphiel's friends; he would never be forgiven if he attacked her. Admittedly, he didn't want to kill her. He was trapped, no matter what he did.
"What do you want?"
His voice was tense and hostile, but she remained calm as she answered him.
"I have known Sylphiel for a long time, and I care about her a lot. Though you two seem to get along well now, I know you were once enemies. I want you to swear no harm will ever come to her."
He blinked.
"That's all?"
She gave him a sarcastic look.
"A simple request, perhaps, but certainly not meaningless."
He shook his head, still somewhat taken aback by the recent series of unexpected revelations.
"I didn't mean it like that."
He finally managed to compose himself, then sighed and looked down at her.
"I will swear if you want me to, but it isn't really needed. I would never hurt her, nor let anyone else cause her harm."
It was true, he realized, for the first time admitting the fact to himself. The gentle blue-haired girl had become the center of his universe, his new reason for living. The one person who had the strength to accept him for what he was, look beyond his past. Without her...
The thought of losing her was like a hard blow in the pit of his stomach, causing almost physical pain. He blinked again and found Misha studying him in silence, her gray eyes looking into his as if scrutinizing his very soul. Then she nodded, apparently satisfied with what she saw there.
"Good. That's what I thought. She's lucky to have a friend like you."
Then her serious expression dissolved and faded, like clouds before a summer breeze, and she flashed him her best depraved grin.
"Now tell me, what did you think I was going to ask you for?"
He cursed inwardly as his cheeks turned a betraying shade of red. No matter how much he tried to stay detached and unaffected, the small woman always managed to knock him off his feet – if not in the literal sense she undoubtedly would have preferred.
"Never mind," he muttered, which only caused her grin to widen and finally turn into a warm laugh.
Shadows were turning purple and the light filtering in through the living room windows was the same color as ancient gold by the time the guests began to leave.
As the crowd began to thin Sylphiel realized the purple-haired man was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Misha. She frowned a little, knowing he didn't particularly care for the outspoken woman's company, wondering where they had gone off to. As the last of the guests had left she went into the garden to track the runaways down. She found them by the willows, watching the children play tag between the fruit-trees in the lower part of the garden. The small woman was talking incessantly, yet his suffering expression seemed most for show. Curious she walked over to them.
"So this is where you've run off to, " she greeted them as she joined them by the willows. Misha nodded at her and patted at the empty place beside her at the stone bench. The tall man quickly picked up the plate occupying the space indicated, then stepped back to once again lean against one of the willows.
"Sit down, Sylli-chan, get some rest, " Misha ordered her. With a tired smile she complied.
"What were you two talking about? I haven't seen either of you for over an hour."
The man now known as Antares answered her with a voice dry enough to dehydrate a minor ocean.
"Misha was having an absolutely fascinating one-way conversation about the deeper aspects of reproduction, involving about all male members of the human race."
Misha's shameless grin assured Sylphiel she really didn't want to know more about it.
"Well, it's about time I get going as well, " the tailor finally stated and stood, smoothing out the wrinkles of her chestnut dress. Sylphiel stood as well as Misha turned to call her children.
"Furika! Tell your brother to come over here! It's time to go home! Anyways, it's been great as always, Sylphiel. Too bad we didn't have a chance to talk more, but the bevy of magpies monopolized you all afternoon. Maybe we can all get together for dinner sometime, how about that?"
The children ran over to them and they all headed for the cottage. After a minor war of wills Misha finally managed to get her unruly children through the house and out the front door and turned to wave at the two of them.
"You two take care now! Later!"
Sylphiel waved after her, then closed the door. Silence fell over the house once more.
"Gods, I'm tired," Sylphiel mumbled as she sank into the couch in the living room. The back door was still open, and the scent of summer twilight drifted in along with the song of a weeping blackbird.
As she leaned her face in her hands to recover some strength he looked around the room.
The large dinner table was a mess, full of dirty dishes. On the small table by the window the traditional vase of flowers had been replaced by a large collection of gifts, and he suddenly remembered he had not yet given her anything. The presents on the table ranged from a costly amethyst bracelet with a golden pendant to a handful of dandelions picked by the wayside, and suddenly he realized their true meaning. No one had tried to calculate the worth of a gift to make sure it was 'right' – the presents, no matter how trivial, were simply tokens of appreciation.
It was that simple, and the multitude of small gifts confirmed the blue-haired girl was a much-loved person indeed.
This new insight assured him his first idea for a gift had been the right one. Nonetheless the thought made him more nervous than he could remember ever having been in his life. The hand in his pocket closed over the small leaf resting there.
She stood from the couch and stretched, then turned towards the table.
"What a mess. I'd better get this cleaned up before I go to bed," she mumbled and walked over to the table.
Now or never.
"Uhm. Sylphiel?"
"Yes?" she asked. Then, as she received no answer, she turned to look at him.
He held up his hand, holding the small leaf, and let his magic surge through it, forcing it to change through the power of his will. Her eyes grew wide as delicate tendrils began sprouting from between his glowing fingers. The stalks grew thicker and small heart-shaped leaves spread their wings from the main stem as the white magic swirled around it. Small buds hung like delicate amethyst beads along the top of the stem, and then finally a flower exploded from the plant, of a kind she had never seen before. Five slender petals framed its golden, star-shaped heart, with its high graceful stamens, and the flower was the same shade of smoky twilight blue as her hair. The petals' rims were covered with a thin lace pattern of pure white, as if outlined by frost. With a slightly awkward gesture he offered her the newborn flower.
"Uhm. Happy birthday."
With trembling hands she reached out to take the flower from his hand, breathing it's rich, sweet scent.
"It's... beautiful," she whispered, completely surprised by his unexpected gift,
"I've never seen a flower like this before."
His ears were a deep red and his face felt rather hot as he gestured at the flower.
"You wouldn't have. It's the first of its kind. There is a little of Flagoon in it, so it's supposed to have a touch of white magic. Or something. I don't know. I've never created a flower before."
He sounded proud, defensive and embarrassed at the same time. She looked up at him with strangely glittering eyes.
"You created this? Just for me?"
If possible he looked even more self-conscious than before.
"Well, I know you love flowers, so... It seemed appropriate..."
As if his gesture had been the final proof of the change they had gone through, she felt the last wall of defiance crumble deep inside. She wasn't even aware of the tears sliding down her cheeks until she saw them mirrored in his suddenly concerned eyes.
"Sylphiel... Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?"
She shook her head and wiped her eyes, careful not to harm the flower, but her tears just wouldn't stop. She wanted to thank him for the gift, tell him how much it meant, but her voice refused to obey her. Very carefully putting the flower down on a clear spot on the table, she silently reached out to embrace him. She felt him stiffen in shock at the touch and suddenly wondered if she had gone too far. Then he slowly relaxed, and ever carefully, as if she had been made out of delicate china, reached up and awkwardly stroked her silky hair.
They remained standing like that for a long time, as the sun set and twilight came floating across the sky. In the dim light the frosty outline of the flower petals glowed, a pure white light, sketching the ghost image of a flower. The blackbird in the garden kept singing, an bittersweet ancient melody so ethereal and beautiful it seemed to belong to another world.
And in the apple tree the cat lay comfortably outstretched on a rough branch. She looked down at her two humans, and a feline enigmatic smile touched her face. As night fell, her satisfied purr became a counter-beat to the bird's song, drifting up towards the stars.
Dear me, seems we're diving headlong into sugar-sweet mushiness here. I think I need my toothbrush...
Good grief, if this keeps up I'll be writing lemons next! And then where would we be? ^^;;
Write me at Silvestris@hotmail.com and bug me to write more if you want to find out.
The quotes are from Oshiro-sama's Letters to a Red Priest (in other words, I made 'em up) and can't be used without my permission. If you ask nicely and give me credit you'll most likely get my permission, but anyways...
What's in a name? Tying up another loose end in the this story, I finally decided to give our favorite clone a real name of his own. As for the suggestions first made in this story, my dictionary tells us this: Tanin = outsider, stranger. Migoto = splendid, magnificent. Tengu = conceited person.
Now, why finally 'Antares'? For those of you who don't know, that is the result of a contest held in the Den of Slayers Silliness. People submitted suggestions for Kopii's new name, and 'Antares' was voted the winner. So, it's half-official, you know? I just jumped on the bandwagon.