Vervain
even the darkest night
will end
will end
Vai tilts her head a fraction to the side at Kai's sudden and boyish interest in ectoplasmic constructs and weather patterns in the land of the dead. If there were time, you can bet your sweet bippy she'd have indulged him with an answer only tangentially based in fact (even ghosts have to get their kicks somehow), but given that they're here on Flora's behalf, she offers him only a quiet raise of her eyebrows. By that point the soldier is already rummaging about in his pockets anyway, and the witch forgets her spectral umbrella in lieu of... a paper weight?
"What is... Oh. You got her a collection of memories?" she asks, accepting the glass globe with all the care of someone used to handling fragile things. Vai holds it up to the light briefly, as if she might be able to see the various recollections swirling within, a smile blooming across her freckled face that's all warmth and unmistakable approval. "Remi was right. That is incredibly sweet of you," she tells him, before lowering the orb to cradle it in both hands. "It would be an honour to add something."
Gazing deep into the glass, rather than choosing any one memory in particular, the witch instead offers the very essence of Flora's childhood. A small girl's laughter echoing through trees; the smell of sun and soil and sweetgrass; the crackle of a fire and the sound of endless, endless fairytales, all contained beneath the quiet sanctuary of a thatched cottage roof.
"Will this work?" Vai asks, smiling and offering the glass orb back out.
"What is... Oh. You got her a collection of memories?" she asks, accepting the glass globe with all the care of someone used to handling fragile things. Vai holds it up to the light briefly, as if she might be able to see the various recollections swirling within, a smile blooming across her freckled face that's all warmth and unmistakable approval. "Remi was right. That is incredibly sweet of you," she tells him, before lowering the orb to cradle it in both hands. "It would be an honour to add something."
Gazing deep into the glass, rather than choosing any one memory in particular, the witch instead offers the very essence of Flora's childhood. A small girl's laughter echoing through trees; the smell of sun and soil and sweetgrass; the crackle of a fire and the sound of endless, endless fairytales, all contained beneath the quiet sanctuary of a thatched cottage roof.
"Will this work?" Vai asks, smiling and offering the glass orb back out.
and the sun
will rise
will rise
