Hushed Willows as spring opens (touching, skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

✹☾❂

 

As if he read her mind, Kincaid began describing a small snippet of his life to her: the mountain range, Elysia, and how they were so tall that they could scrape the sky. Eleuthera was pleased, looking up and beaming at him as if he truly had known what she desired, and sought to fulfill it. It was either that, or Kin was simply an open book, ready to read her the different chapters of his life, one by one. Either way, Eleuthera would eagerly imbibe whatever she was given of him. Her tail wagged as she walked, bumping his once or twice, and when Kincaid tied it all together with a reference to the otherworldliness of the willows, Eleuthera nodded and commented with a knowing smile “As I said, there’s nothing else like it in the world."

At the end of his description of parties he and his brother had attended, she couldn’t help but comment on this mystery man. “Hmm, Nine. I wish I could have met him. If he was anything like you, then I would have been big fan." Eleuthera let her shoulder brush against his as she danced alongside him, in solidarity. The woman so wished she could introduce Séamus to Kincaid; they would likely have been fast friends. 

You know, the thing that was more amazing than his stories was that Kincaid asked questions about her life and seemed genuinely interested in understanding her experiences better. He was just speaking of ranging mountains, and in the same breath, wondered how they passed their time at their humble gatherings. He wasn’t trying to fill her with hot air, either — every time he asked a question like this, Eleuthera tried to determine if he really wanted to know. Every time, he really, really did. 

There was deep happiness writ upon her features, now. “It’s a lot of what you said," she began. “Well, momma Olive was usually was hosting some ritual, for fertility or the equinox or things like that. She always had a reason," a small, effortless giggle hinted that Eleuthera hadn’t always agreed with this, but if the cowboy needed any more affirmation: “I never really understood it either, but I did it all anyways."

Eleuthera drew in a deep breath, also perceiving the nearness of the rose garden. She picked up her head and looked around, surprised that they had traversed the territory so quickly. That was the thing about the willows — with few defining landmarks, it was sometimes difficult to navigate one’s way or be a good judge of distance. “and momma Seabreeze was the host. She had so many friends, from all over these lands. I’m pretty sure all of the guests came because they wanted to see her. " This, Eleuthera remembered very clearly. Elysium was honestly only a reality because Seabreeze garnered so much goodwill, from every wolf she met.

“There was always lots of food, and games and my aunt Lily would come around and tell stories. Visitors would stay for days before heading back home."

But the good memories were not to last, as their lengthy jaunt terminated at a clear divide: the willows thinned so that the bright, summer sun could break through the canopy and many vines and bushes grew thick from the fertile soil, topped with big, rich, oily flowers of deep, deep crimson — some the color of oxblood, others so dark they were nearly black, and others a vibrant pink. The bushes rose far past the shoulders of any wolf, but there were clear trails throughout the garden. Eleuthera hung back at the very edge, looking out at the verdant collection of floral vibrancy.

“They’re all buried here, in this garden." Eleuthera bit her lip and looked up at Kincaid. She hadn’t mentioned the fact that they were all dead, yet.