the fall

Narcissa had known this feeling before. Twice before. So when she woke beside a waterfall, decidedly not where she had drifted off into an imaginative sleep, Narcissa barely blinked. Instead, the golden girl unwound herself from her sleep, and walked to the edge where the water met the earth, and gazed at the serene water, decorated with lily pads and blossoms.

Pink.

She thought of Alder and smiled. Her brother having told her once that pink flowers made him think of her had long since decided Narcissa's favourite flower to be anything pink, and in place of sadness, delight sat on her chest as she slid her body forward and over the earth to slide into the pool of water.

Gliding in, Narcissa let the cool water engulf her, a pleasant shiver running up and down her spine as she hummed. She knew enough to come to the idea that she was far, far away from her family now, but wasn't that what she often did? Flittered around, going from place to place, but having always returned home? Home now, may be something different, if she decided, but Narcissa remained unflapped at the idea that she was, what some may consider, lost.

Every path is an adventure, and Narcissa was always fond of those. She moved towards one of the blossoms, reaching a golden paw towards the petals with a dreamy smile. Fireflies danced over the waters surface, reflecting their glow in the cool liquid, and Narcissa sighed softly; content.

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He'd begun to feel it again, haunting him amidst the brightest parts of the day where he thought himself untouchable. His slumber was just that—untouchable— and at this point, he'd been running on the last grains of energy, fumes keeping him upright. But despite the utter weakness and exhaustion he compelled himself to acknowledge, there would be no physical remedy. No, despite how much he loathed to admit it, Savan's presence was the only thing capable of making his worries disintegrate. How swiftly the times had changed since their childhood.

But it wasn't Savan that ultimately took space in his mind, not this night it seemed. It was instead himself. His triumphs, and his failures, they ran amok in his head, preoccupying him enough for his subconscious to guide him toward the source of water he'd spotted earlier on. There were still so many parts of this world he hadn't touched, places he'd rather prefer company before he even dared to take a step.

It wasn't those he had purposefully avoided, however, but instead the very place he'd begun a march to. The man took every precaution when it came to the lake, ensuring to himself that it wouldn't be needed for him. He gathered his water from a pool, small and shallow enough he could see the bottom, but also the leaves around his—their—den after a long night's drench. Why, he couldn't remember, but the depth and the sight twisted something dark inside him.

His head lifted when his toes turned cold, wet with the lake's gentle rise as it waved to him, misty wind kissing the fur around his face. He withdrew his paw slowly, jaw clenched as he overlooked the expanse of water. Careless. But there, amidst it all, was a flower. Seemingly gloomy, the water had appeared her to be, but content with herself as she drifted. She had not seen him, had not heard him yet, but still, beneath his breath, he pleaded soft prayers to his Star Mother.

Unanswered and tormented still, he'd slump into a sit, back bowed as glistening remnants of his pain slipped through the tangles of his fur. Nothing left him but his soft prayers—pleads he'd never find himself saying so loud in front of any other. A dam had given way beneath the weight of his exhaustion, small and repairable, but big enough to affect him with as much force as it was. It was only a matter of time before the ground beneath him gave way and he'd fall into a pit of his own emotions, drowning beneath their weight. But for now, he was afloat, his trust lying solely in those reigning within the stars to keep him upright.

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Narcissa wasn't alone. When was she? When was anyone truly alone, she thought to herself as she regarded the blossom quietly. Someone else was here, physically and not just in spirit and in mind, and Narcissa spied him from the corner of her golden gaze, outline silver from the hanging moon and twinkling stars.

For Narcissa, there were no voices screaming at her about stranger danger. Every meeting was an opportunity, and truly, they seemed far more engrossed in their mutterings than her, and so the little nymph turned in the water after casting the blossom one last glance, and turned her attention to the troubled shadow.

Troubled, she was certain, plagued, perhaps, but her observant eyes washed over him quietly as she paused in the shallow depths. His mutterings were not something she could make out, but Narcissa supposed they weren't meant for her to begin with. Blinking owlishly, the golden sprite drew from the water until it reached her ankles, and watched him curiously. 

"Do you like blossoms?" her voice was soft against her tongue, airy in the way it was serene.

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Tender, the voice met him quietly, lifting his chin until he could see the bloom of light standing before him. She had spoken, lips moving with an intent he was unbeknownst of. What had she said?

His eyes, half-lidded and pulled loose with exhaustion, leveled on her curiously, mutedly. She spoke of blossoms—it sounded right—did she mean herself? A lily drawn from the water. A yellow bulb plucked from the soil, petals beginning to bloom.

Vested now, Tamir straightened in her presence. “Know little but beauty.” He was not a man who usually paid any heed to flowers or plants of any sort. He was no healer, no collector, and nothing drew him to the flora, wherever he was.

“Blossom does?” Her. The blossom. The golden flower.

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