He was content to notice her take to his invitation and sit down on the soft, grassy ground. Pale fingers started to move again, though in a slower pace than previously, for divided focus demanded that he be more careful and throughout now. Gray claws carefully handled the vibrant yellow daffodil, one of the last of its kind that had not already prepared its seed to fly along breeze’s touch. But there were other beauties that deserved to wither on top of a girl’s lovely locks. There seemed to exist the ghost of a smile on his face for the shortest moment as she asked for the princess’ whereabouts.
Slowly, the banished prince of Inferni shook his head. ”You ask the wrong question,” he said, brushing the soft faces of flora’s captured life. He turned his face to peer at her. ”Which flowers do you like?” he wondered if this girl knew his name. They were not that far apart in age, were they? When had she come to these lands? He knew that she had not been there at the very start. Why would she come here on her own without own company? So many questions, but he didn’t voice any of them. He only wanted to know which bright faces in the grass she adored the most.
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