Hushed Willows you open always petal by petal

✹☾❂

 

The rain had become something more than an annoyance. The thick boughs of willow branches acted a little like a shield, but eventually the weight of the water always broke through — Eleuthera found that she was pervasively damp and, after days of continuous rain, she hadn’t been allowed to dry. The lilac woman preened herself often to ensure that her pelt did not become tattered and in knots from the whole thing.

So Eleuthera found that she was usually stowed away in her den, likely passing stories back and forth with @Kincaid, losing track of time between the darkened skies and the many, many naps. Really, she found that she didn’t know what day it was anymore, so Eleuthera knew that she had to quit the relative comfort of the den for at least a short while, to feel the rain on her skin and watch the willows weep.

The rain kept her within the willows, when she really wanted to run — run away from the rain clouds and fine some place sunny, with a patch of warm earth upon which she could sprawl. Perhaps this sunny place existed just beyond the mountains, for all she knew; it certainly couldn’t be that all the earth that was this way. Eleuthera walked to a clearing, gazed up high at the mountains that loomed westward and guarded the willows, then shook her head, knowing she could not leave the willows right now, even if she wanted to. Even if the mere fantasy of it was enough to keep her away at night.

Instead, Eleuthera went to the rose garden. It certainly wasn’t the first time she had visited the garden, but her visits were few and far between. She felt a little awkward coming here — exposed, as if her mothers were pervasive, all-seeing things that lived on here. The girl had shown it to Kincaid, been overwhelmed with its energy, and then didn’t come back for a long time.

But now, she did. The faerie pressed herself against the loamy, fertile soil and crooned to the earth. “Hey Mommas, I —" she began, the misted rain coalescing on her face and running off in large beads. “I miss you guys. You have not been forgotten."  The Faeries and the russet cowboy were all-encompassing and totally overwhelming in their impact upon her, but her real reason for staying amongst the willows would always run true. Eleuthera pushed herself up upon pointed forelegs, wondering if the dead could hear and speak, just as Scarab said they could.

Tags for awareness. All welcome!

After his tumultous return, Valiant had requested solitude that he did not want, and had retreated to the rose grove — only to find it already occupied.

The woman was unfamiliar to him, but this place was not. Part of him rankled to have her here on this earth, where only wolves of Elysium should be allowed — but it had not been that way in the time of the allmothers, and he supposed they would not want it that way, now.

"Um. Hey," he said in a rather hoarse voice, trying not to feel irritated at having disturbed her in apparent prayer, and at having to make conversation when he, himself, would rather pray.

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Eleuthera’s mind always felt clearer after visiting the rose garden. It was something about the heady aroma that permeated the air and earth in this special spot upon the earth. Instead of giving her a high, it calmed her down — put space between her many, many thoughts. Or maybe it was the chance to connect with something that was unchanging, when there were so many things in the world that were always changing. It was centering, to know where most of her family lay. She felt her bones draw towards it. 

She wished Séamus could have found his final resting place here, with their momma’s.

The willows weren’t a giant, sprawling territory, so it was inevitable that she ran into someone else in such a beautiful, humectant spot. She had hoped, with a sad realization, that she hoped it wouldn’t be Orlaith. She liked the fire faerie just fine, but Eleuthera wasn’t sure she had the pliancy to recognize the sacredness of a space that, well, was probably only sacred to her. However, it wasn’t Orlaith who found her amongst the roses. It was a stranger.

“Oh!" she breathed, when she noticed the younger man. “Hey." Eleuthera thought for a moment, perhaps she had seen him in the background at a court gathering or smelt his scent upon the lightest of wind — but she couldn’t say anything for certain. “Are you new?" the lilac druid asked, hoping to clarify it for herself.

There was something about the stranger that was quite striking — something that Valiant could not immediately identify. He knew he wanted to know her, however; a desire that pierced through his grief and throbbed dully in the back of his mind.

"I — yes," he told her, not feeling quite up to explaining his long absence, and the short time he'd spent here among the faeries before. "But — I was born here. Not here-here. In the dens."

✹☾❂

 

The pale, mousey creature opened up easily enough. He was born here, but not here-here. Well, the actual specific location mattered less to her than the fact that he was an Elysium cub. It was pretty easy to deduce, as she had a pretty good timeline worked out in her head now. The family that kept popping up, here and there, served to add another shade of color to her understanding of what had happened to Elysium and the other, innocent Seraphs. 

Eleuthera managed to contain her wonder and excitement, being in such a holy location. She never saw anyone else here, for such a place of verdant beauty. Perhaps they felt its gravity and knew it was not entirely a pleasurable place. “Really?" she asked in brief disbelief. Brief, because if she was a child of Elysium, then this must be her kin. She was gaining family left and right, and it pleased her deeply. “Me too."

Her ears flicked back momentarily, and there was a passing grimace that flashed across her lips. Her actual birthplace was even more not here than his. “Well, kind of the same as you. I was born on the Sunspire, but we moved here before I could even remember anything." Sure, she had been present for the lovely asylum’s inception, but she missed this entire era that Sundance and this new kin had experienced. “Who were your parents?" Eleuthera inquired, then quickly tacked on —  
“Did you experience the shaking earth, too?!"

Where did a week just go?! also, since i’m apparently just disregarding time altogether, let’s say this is after she meets Sundance.