[P] [tulip fest] Pick a petal, eeny meeny miny mo;

[Elena]

Elena Daray

let us live like flowers
drenched in sunlight

T

hrough this festival, if Elena just closed her eyes tightly enough, she could imagine herself back in Paraiso, with Lilli beside her.

Paraiso.

There they had learned to build a tower of stone. Where they discovered the disconnected delights of chaos when a tower fell.
Where they learned to make a daisy chain. To intertwine the pieces together until it stretched to infinity. (Or until they were called home for bedtime.)
Where they studied silence (like the children of scholars), and learned the bright language of dragonflies.
Where they learned to wait. To watch, to think thoughts and not voice them. To gaze up at the creatures that admired their steadiness and stillness.
Where they learned to love. (Though some say they have known since the day they were born.)

But she blinks and the thoughts are gone as the golden girl looks to the palomino man. Maybe, if they were friends and not strangers, she would have asked him to build a tower of stone, make daisy chain, study dragonflies. Or ask him who he loves, who he loved, and why. But they are strangers.

“I cant take all the credit,” she says with a smile. “Dusk’s people are incredibly talented and devoted,” she says and speaks the truth. “You’ve come on one of the best days, peek booming,” she says, sending her blue gaze out and across the colors that spread out before them. She picks a flower then, a tulip of light purple (the color Elli picked out) and places it in his hair. “Tell me about this gambling, you must have some wild stories.”

code by rallidae
picture by cannon
@August