Day 30 (August 5th). Free Day III: Our last free day. Today's prompt is open to whatever your heart wishes.
Focus: I was originally going to post this for Day 20, but I saved it for now. Cipher is from my best friend's fic- Any Way the Wind Blows, coming soon by EibonVirgo.
Characters: OC/OC.
The watering can dropped to the ground with an obnoxious clatter from my hands. Unprecedented sunlight now escaped through the torn polyethylene film roof of the greenhouse.
A woman was laying on her back on my tarragon bed. Her aura read one of a psychic, but I never met her. I stared up at the ceiling. Above it was high rooftops. I couldn't have guessed where she came from, what she was running from, or why.
The woman in question…I don't really know how I would try to describe her. Long blonde hair framed her face in a way that the sun beaming through gave her a spotlight, halo effect. The clothes, however, were dark. The same dark purple as her lipstick, or the circlet above her nicely down brows. My steps, my small tip-toe hops, were tender to not startle the woman. The gold decorating her eyes was almost blinding.
I knelt beside her and quickly grabbed the light blue fabric of my dress in my hands. Her arm was bleeding, I saw from where her gloves were torn. My hands were swift as I tore the thin fabric into strips and swiftly began to tie it around the open wound. My hand moved to remove the ribbon in my hair when a hand covered mine and squeezed harshly.
I didn't have time to register what happened. I was falling on my back. I sat up, my hands raised peacefully, only to meet the eyes of steely gray. Her glare was aimed at me. She was sitting up, or trying to, with one arm behind her in support while the other was held out in front of her. I could feel the pressure in the air rising. And I knew. I knew right then and there what kind of psychic she was.
"W-wait!" My hands move to offer her one of the flowers I picked. This seemed to the confuse the woman. Her first attempts at words are grunted as she forced herself to lower her hand to support her abdomen.
"I don't understand the implication," Her words were smooth. Fluid. There was an accent I couldn't really place. I never heard it before.
"It's a red poppy," I explain quickly with a large, bashful smile. "It means consolidating." Her expression didn't change. "You know! You give it to someone when something bad happens to cheer them up. Like you!"
"You assume I am under misfortune?"
"Well, no, but I would assume falling through the roof of my garden would maybe warrant a consolidation," I gave a slight chuckle under my breath. My hand extending out, unwavering, to offer the poppy towards the woman. She leaned over, her one hand cupping her stomach, the other posed to take the dainty flower. Our fingers touched briefly, forcing a bubble of static upon contact. The abrupt feeling made me laugh genuinely this time, a sound that echoed off the walls of the small greenhouse. She leaned back with the flower in her hand. To me, it almost looked as if she were inspecting it.
"Who are you?" The hostility wasn't gone. Yet, it almost seemed like she was regarding me with some form of mild curiosity. "You are a psychic." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
"Lina Kozakura," I answered for her.
"This garden, I assume it to be yours."
"Yes," I nodded enthusiastically. "Who are you?"
"I am non-existent."
My cheeks filled with air as I formed my lips into a pout. "I can see you, which means you're real!" I crossed my arms over my chest. "Fine!" I threw my hands up in the air. "You're not real. Can I finish, at least?" I gestured to her wound. She seemed to slant her eyes, but I kept her eye.
"That is not necessary," She attempted to stand up. Her legs wobbled underneath her. I moved to catch her, and yet, she batted my hands away.
"That is not necessary," I mocked back in a high-pitched tone. "You need help, and I'm giving it!" I insisted back. Her eyes met mine once more. I didn't wait for her to give me an answer. I supported her arm and guided her into a chair near the wall. "Sit!" I demanded. She complied without complaint. This time, I succeeded in removing the hair ribbon from my hair, and completed tying the fabric around her arm with the ribbon. I briefly debated if the laces from my shoes would have been better, but this is the best I could do.
"Why would you help me?" She, this entire time, held her chin held proudly in the air.
"It's the right thing to do," I spoke simply as I finished tying off the pink ribbon into a bow. "You're done." I stepped back with a smile.
"I assume you have not heard the legends of the Witches of Daimon."
"I have," My steps took me to pick up the stray watering can off of the ground. "You can stop looking at the door, you know. No one else is home." No one ever is. Ever since Jack ran away…I never quite understood the phrase of lonely girl, big house until the past few months.
She fidgeted in her seat as she must have processed the information. Her eyes glanced down to my torn dress, and my now loose bangs that hovered over parts of my cheeks. The woman slowly stood. It was only now I saw the dangly earrings, a pattern of cascading stars, that traveled down her neck. She seemed to glance at the flowers around.
"Do you manage the care of all of these?" Her words, as fluid as the last, questioned in a tone I thought was meant to be soft.
"Yeah," I nod with a thoughtful smile. "They're family."
Slowly, the woman knelt down to a flower bed of yellow tulips. She staggered to one knee. I moved to try and help her, but she held out her hand in a way that told me let me try. And I did.
"These," She nodded to the tulips. "What do they mean?"
"Sunshine in your smile," I told her with a confused frown. She nodded in satisfaction. Slowly, she gripped near the middle of the stem, and seemed to snap the base. One tulip came away from the group. Her knees trembled as she stood back up, but I didn't try to move towards her. By looking at her, I just knew she could do it.
Her steps brought them toward her. She was standing right in front of me. She was a couple of inches taller than me, I noticed, a difference made more pronounced by her platform boots. Her hand came into contact with my hair. I realized she was tucking the flower behind my ear to keep back my bangs, in place of my ribbon. Her hand lingered for just a moment to brush back my hair. My cheeks grew pink while my face flushed with warmth.
Our eyes gazed solely on the other. I could see the gray in full view. I thought initially they were only hard, cold, maybe even abrasive, but I should have realized sooner the complexity went far beyond simplistic terms.
"Forget me," The tone could have been described as reminiscent. I knew, in her language, it meant thank you. She turned on her heel to limp out of my greenhouse. I was frozen in place, unable to comprehend this woman who fell into my life, or the pit in my stomach at the thought of her leaving.
"W-wait!" I hopped one step forward with the word. She didn't hesitate in her march towards the door. "You fell into my bed of tarragons!" I shouted after her. "That means lasting interest, so I can't forget you, no matter how much you want me to!"
That seemed to make her at least pause in her steps. I thought I heard a small sound. Laughter. I made her laugh. My eyes grew watery as I laughed too. She continued out the door, but I knew, it would not be out of my life. I knew when I saw the spark of red in her hands through the clear walls of the greenhouse- my red poppy I had given her, held securely within her hand.