His patience would live on forever, and the minutes were comfortable waves of silent breaths. Small needles of pain travelled through the injured side of the collarbone, but he let nothing disturb his demeanour. Eventually there were names, names of flowers considered more royal than the rest. What had happened with the simple daisy’s worth? But he said nothing; would not assume he knew anything about her through her choice of preferred flora. ”I knew a Magnolia tree once,” It was a good choice, and its flowers lived a short and fleeting life. But he hadn’t appreciated it back then, and it was unlikely that he would get a chance to see it again. It had its roots dug deep into Inferni soil. Perhaps it made them more special. Perhaps, perhaps. He was not a child of the Earth Mother. He was an outcast, and the flowers in his lap should twitch and wither from his touch.
Why did the silvery girl with the green eyes smile? Blushing eyes watched the gentle line on her lips for just a moment before they wandered away, rising up to search for her chosen favourites in the flower field. ”This crown is missing something,” he mused, though unwilling to rise from his seat now when there was someone present to see his injury if he moved too much. There was no such thing as a perfect flower, and therefore this object in his hands wouldn’t be either. But one didn’t always have to settle for what was perfect.
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