He found it ridiculous how fragile the petite flora in his hands were. Grey claws gently traced the soft, sweet smelling faces while he thought of how easy it would be to crush them in his pale hands. But they suffered differently from creatures of flesh. A flower couldn’t speak; couldn’t scream when its stem was broken off to become part of a short lived masterpiece. These bright, healthy colours in his lap were already dying. Deep reds focused then, shifting to the face known as Magnolia. All the strange names parents would give to their children. She was nothing like the majestic tree he had gazed up on as a young pup, but for one of her species, her features were beyond pleasant.
He offered no name to her, for she had done nothing to deserve it. But she caught the hint intertwined with his previous words, and he was pleased at how quickly she had responded to it. And how well. ”How considerate of you,” the Family member complimented along with a modest nod, invisible smile detectable in the slight softness of his tones. Dear Magnolia would carry the choice of which flowers to further enhance the unfinished crown of flowers. The man closed his eyes, felt the dull ache of healing bone. It was too easy to gather enemies. He had to be more careful in the future.
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