In the deep south, once every ten years a white flower would open its petals and emanate a scent rumored to lure love from even the hardest of hearts. Once in 3,650 days, the flower would enchant anybody fortunate enough to find it in its well-forested home, and the first high tide of the day would trigger its self-defense mechanism and cause it to burst into purple flames.
Roo did not actually know if any of this was true, but as he was at the moment standing deep in the southern forests, it was probably a bit too late for fact-checking. It was also a bit too late to curse himself for the lack of forethought, lack of preparation, and overabundance of spontaneity that had led him here. He was not used to spontaneity. It had, he decided, led to many of the worse decisions that now controlled his life.
Heavy sunlight streamed through the breathing masses of green overhead, beating his thoughts into submission. Taking refuge underneath a large, dark tree (he was never a taxonomist, but he supposed it might've been a beech) he tried to think about what to do next.
The truth was, he didn't know why he was here, chasing after myths, just as he didn't know why he allowed Gabriel to stay with him, or why he kept looking at Gabriel when he thought he wasn't looking, or indeed why walking past Imperial guards put him in intense fear but not for himself...
Gabriel called it love. Roo didn't know if he agreed. But, he supposed, staring at the white blossom in his hand, this might be what Gabriel meant.
Later, when Roo gave it to Gabriel with an explanation of what it was (he told the what, skipped the why, but Gabby understood much without being told, something he appreciated very much), the angel had been ecstatic. They'd waited in high anticipation for the first high tide and the spectacular visual results promised by poets long gone, but high tide came and went and nothing happened. The flower didn't even smell that good. Roo would never say it, but embarrassment and disappointment were making it very hard to look Gabriel in the eye.
Around sunset, Gabriel finally said kindly, "It's not that the flower does all this that makes it a gift. I think that you'd really have to care about someone to find it for them. That's what makes it special."
Roo gave him a deadpan are-you-for-real? look, making him laugh. "I mean it," he said sincerely, linking his hand with Roo's underneath the table. "Thank you."
Gabriel was mushy and Roo didn't like mushy, but sincerity made his throat tighten and he looked away. Smiling, they leaned into a hug, and spent the night on that balcony simply sitting and looking at the stars, recalling their names and creating stories. A rare, peaceful night that didn't last as soon as they learned that the flower set itself on fire at the last high tide of the day, not the first. After a moment of stunned silence, Gabriel deemed it perfect, and Roo agreed.