Lion Head Mesa gesuto o omukae

Nephele’s eyes tipped down to the flowers as they were prodded at, breathing out a soft puff. Nobody had ever brought her flowers before, ever. Even Pidáo, in his infinite wisdom on courting (which he had assured her of), never brought flowers. 

She licked her nose, a faint wheeze to her breath when she inhaled it that spoke of the sudden knot in her esophagus. She swallowed around it, trying not to let it get her as it had before.

...thank you. This is kind of you to do. She murmured, biting down hard on her tongue to rid it of the tie in it, turning her words to ashes in her mouth. Nephele flashed a grateful smile.

I’ll place them in my alcove where I sleep.