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

✹☾❂

 

Oops. In all her vague snippets of stories that she told unto him, there had been a misunderstanding. It only figured as much, as the real story of the end of Elysium was a long drawn-out game of telephone at this point. There were parts that died with Seabreeze and Olive. There were parts of the story that died with Séamus. There were parts of the story that were transmuted as they traveled from wolf to wolf, from old mouth to new ear, even here and now as she told Kincaid what ills befell those who had bore her.

She hadn’t run from the bear. If Séamus was right, the bear had happened months prior. She had been running from ghosts.

But this new story, albeit a work of fiction, worked well for Eleuthera. She had run from the bear, for her life. If she hadn’t run then, she couldn’t be here to defend the willows now. The way he drawled her name, chewing the sounds as no one had done before, the lilac woman found herself easily convinced of his new truth. If she didn’t correct Kincaid, he would never know the truth — that she was a coward, always running from the ideas of things. “Thank you for saying that," she noted gratefully, wanting to reach up and kiss him for the peace he had just unknowingly gifted her.

She continued talking, though. Eleuthera loved to talk with him, even about the sad things, and found him to be a man with conversational skills that rivaled her own. It was their shared, curious nature. “I’m not sad about it anymore. More… worried, for the future." Eleuthera shook her soft, summer pelt. “Everything suddenly feels so real." Regarding the Saints, Elysium, Seelie Court, Kincaid, and Seamus and the love she bore both of them. “When I came back, I didn’t think all of this stuff would happen with the Faeries," Eleuthera admitted, not as sheepishly as she could have. She was rising to the occasion, no?

“I only wanted to walk amongst the roses." With that, Eleuthera completed the half-step forward that she had danced around a few moments earlier, striding into the garden. The woman again looked back towards the roughhewn rambler, eyes half-lidded, inviting him to her side amongst the roses.