Delphine
"I'm not sure calling them a loss is... the right thing to do." She explained, with a smile. "The god that took them cursed me to always remember, when all I wanted was to forget... I'm thankful, that I didn't forget. I was giving them a life they did not deserve; they deserved better." She'd been sad, and if she took her gloves off and her furs, the man would see just how sad she had been, scarred arms and hands told the truth.
But so did the smile that graced her lips when she talked about them, remembered them. It had taken her a while; it had taken words of forgiveness before she had begun to forgive herself. "I'm certain they're happier." She murmured.
The man took the bait and switched the topics, and she listened, eyes bright. "Oh, that sounds glorious," she drifted into silence as he delivered his package to the family, gloved hands clasped in front of her, as she smiled toward the locals.
Ever the shy girl, when she felt she did not belong.
"I..." No one had invited Delphine anywhere in a long, long time. "I'd love to join you for lunch," she'd brought some vials of paint pigments to trade, small enough to keep in her pockets.
He started talking about his plants for Flowerbirth, and Delphine nodded, "Back home, we did not have such troubles as the cold, but we still had greenhouses to help weather the storms and such. Would something such as that work well here?" She inquired. Clearly, agriculture and plants was something she was interested in, and knew about.
Her mother had been a botanist, a scientist. And while Delphine understood plants, inventions, her true passions had always laid in using her ability and knowledge to heal for good; though somewhere down the line she'd taken care of children, become a housewife.
Become weak.
Or had she always been weak? "My mother, she used to keep one room in our house for the plants, she studied plants--she and I studied different plants. Like some plants increase milk production in milk-bearing animals," and that could be the difference in a small child surviving the winter or not. "And other plants are good for spices, and... oh, we had all sorts of fruit trees! Do you know how to splice and create new breeds of plants?"
But so did the smile that graced her lips when she talked about them, remembered them. It had taken her a while; it had taken words of forgiveness before she had begun to forgive herself. "I'm certain they're happier." She murmured.
The man took the bait and switched the topics, and she listened, eyes bright. "Oh, that sounds glorious," she drifted into silence as he delivered his package to the family, gloved hands clasped in front of her, as she smiled toward the locals.
Ever the shy girl, when she felt she did not belong.
"I..." No one had invited Delphine anywhere in a long, long time. "I'd love to join you for lunch," she'd brought some vials of paint pigments to trade, small enough to keep in her pockets.
He started talking about his plants for Flowerbirth, and Delphine nodded, "Back home, we did not have such troubles as the cold, but we still had greenhouses to help weather the storms and such. Would something such as that work well here?" She inquired. Clearly, agriculture and plants was something she was interested in, and knew about.
Her mother had been a botanist, a scientist. And while Delphine understood plants, inventions, her true passions had always laid in using her ability and knowledge to heal for good; though somewhere down the line she'd taken care of children, become a housewife.
Become weak.
Or had she always been weak? "My mother, she used to keep one room in our house for the plants, she studied plants--she and I studied different plants. Like some plants increase milk production in milk-bearing animals," and that could be the difference in a small child surviving the winter or not. "And other plants are good for spices, and... oh, we had all sorts of fruit trees! Do you know how to splice and create new breeds of plants?"
I don't mind where you come from as long as you come to me.
I don't like illusions, I can't see them clearly.
I don't care, no, I wouldn't dare to fix the twist in you.
You've shown me eventually, what you'll do.
I don't like illusions, I can't see them clearly.
I don't care, no, I wouldn't dare to fix the twist in you.
You've shown me eventually, what you'll do.
