It was just the two of them in the garden. No one else was around to hear them whisper quietly. The whispers turned to a comfortable silence. They were sitting on one of the benches that bordered their favorite pond.
"Why did you choose the name Rosethorn?" Irene asked as she twirled her fingers across the water.
"Someone once told me that I was as beautiful as a rose and as sharp as it's thorn," Niva said, caressing a rose petal softly.
"So you're dedicating your name to him?"
"Who?" The petal fell to the ground, hitting the top of the water.
"Don't play with me. You know who I'm talking about."
"I'm not dedicating my name to him. It just… seemed to fit."
Irene grabbed the floating petal and held it gently in her hand.
"I just hope you know what you're doing- naming yourself Rosethorn."