[P] suns fled and ten million moons fled after them;

[Florentine]

i'm a pretty flower girl
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Florentine does not know how tightly her daughter will cling to those words she whispers prophetically into her child’s ear. It may not have been a prophecy at all but Florentine means every word and knows with the curl of her daughter’s lips that they have sunk somewhere deep. They are the treasure guarded in the deep and Aster is the lady of the lake set to guard and uphold it.
 
Yet she is only a baby and she falls into slumber with the readiness of a newborn. She is sleep soft beneath her mother’s lips and never does Florentine lift her touch from the satin of her girl’s skin. Over and over and over her touch glides, slow like a lullaby, warm with love. Each touch is emblazoned upon her mind. Locust once told her she would fear for her child’s life more than her own. Florentine could not deny the truth of those words then, but now, oh now it holds a gravity and strength that Florentine can barely grasp. Her childrens’ lives are everything. She would sooner end her own than risk that they lose theirs.
 
And so she remembers, with every touch and kiss and scent and taste. She remembers the sound of her daughter sleeping, the laughter between a father and his children. She remembers what it felt like to have her heart soar with this bright spark love – consuming and permeating everything.
 
I love you, mama.
 
And Florentine falls still and smiles a smile she never had before.  Their love is warmth but even beneath that midday sun, Florentine is not hot with it but cool and perfect. For this love is perfect.
 
“I love you too, Little Star.”


@Aster

florentine
rocking your pretty flower world