[Seasonal Event] no spring skips its turn

Amalia Still sitting on a shelf and never Never seen the sun shine brighter Flowerbirth is here, and the girl feels renewed- or at least somewhere near it. The wound of death is still bear her breast, but she shies away from looking too closely, investigating the feelings that made her yearn for Ludo's release. Instead she takes readily to something new, something which makes her feel wonderfully other than she is: the leopard. Since her time in the information she has been wearing the skin more and more, venturing through nightmares bold on silent paws, sleeping soundly in feline guise. So it is that she wakes one day, early into Flowerbirth, her round ears having caught a bluster of sound. Dark eyes widen and blink, and she stretches into a standing position. Amalia the baker recoils in fear, but Amalia the leopard is inquisitive and bold, and so it is that the feline strides toward the unlatched back door, slinking out into the sunlight to find the source of the sound. She does not expect the sight that greets her: Deimos, armed with trowel and spade, clandestinely planting lavender. The whole scene is deeply absurd and profoundly touching. Is he doing this for her? Something in her chest warms and tightens, a soft purr rising unbidden in her lungs. She wants to but she does not approach, content for a few minutes to watch from the shadows, stalking her prey. It is only when she senses a lull in Deimos' actions that Amalia strikes, pouncing from her concealment to appear beside the man, tail erect and ears upright in happy interest. He does not know it is her - cannot, she is sure - and the thrill of it fills her with a shocking brazenness, a giddy delight. The tables have turned on Mr. Shade, and as the leopard takes a position of readiness for play before the man she wonders if he will engage or shun, chastise or cheer, and is not afraid. And it feels like me on a good day