The quality of beauty is often considered to be entirely subjective, but that is not necessarily true. There exist some sights so universally breath-taking that their brilliance may be objectively acknowledged, although these are few and far between. But as yet, none who have looked upon this garden have been anything short of amazed.
Flowers of every hue mingle here, the most memorable specimens of two cultures rippling out around the house in ever-changing waves. It is the nature of their very existence that each passerby cannot help but leave as much as they take, but the garden itself is continuous, tended by all and owned by none.
A girl picks her way along the path which is today long and gently winding, trailing verdancy and rainbow blossoms in her wake. Flowers turn towards her as she passes, seeking out the luminosity in which she cloaks herself, and as she pauses to pluck a bloom it bursts open beneath her radiant touch.
She cannot help but smile at the sight. She is content, and her destination is now visible; through the branches of a tree, she looks upon the most striking sight of all – a girl who stares out at the world with arresting curiosity.
"Miss Maryam?"
Her approach has been noticed, the girl rises from her seat.
"Miss Lalonde." Kanaya greets the object of her affections with a curtsey, and offers her the rose. "Would you care to walk with me?"
Rose's smile is blinding.
"But of course."
Once the decision had been made, it was Vriska who led the way, although she had grumbled through the entire walk. She rang the doorbell with a scowl, but her brow uncreased when the door was opened by Rose, with an open smile Kanaya had never seen her wear before.
"Vriska," she greeted, brightly – then, after a moment's pause, "Miss Maryam."
"Rose." Kanaya glanced at the ground, marvelling at her own infinite capacity for awkwardness. "We, ah –"
"We have to talk to the ghost bitch," Vriska declared, blunt as ever.
Rose fixed her with a gentle glare. "I would prefer..."
"I know, I know." Vriska clasped Rose's hands, bringing them up between their chests, and the display of moirallegiance was so brazen Kanaya could not help but stare.
"Let's just get this over with," Vriska suggested, and Rose's mouth quirked. "And she is a bitch."
Rose's smile returned in full, and she carefully untangled her hands before turning back to Kanaya.
"Follow me," she asked, and said no more until they reached Aradia's door – but before knocking, Rose reached out and touched Vriska's sleeve.
"Find me," she said quietly.
Vriska's answering nod held a solemnity Kanaya had never suspected she possessed.
Rose knocked once, carefully, and less than a second had passed before Aradia opened the door, her gaze meeting Rose's for barely a moment.
It was enough; Kanaya understood. She knew what desire looked like.
They link arms, and stroll at a leisurely pace. There is no fixed destination, nor would there be if such a thing were possible here. They wish only to enjoy one another's company.
"Thank you for this." Rose twirls the bloom between her fingers. "I trust you are aware of its symbolism?"
"You've told me it's called a rose," Kanaya admits. "Does it hold further meaning?"
"Almost all plants do," Rose explains. "Or they did, on Earth. The giving of a red rose was one of the most widely recognised gestures in my culture."
She finishes there, and Kanaya must ask: "And what meaning did it hold?"
Rose smiles. "Flushed feelings. Paler colours – white or yellow – would be associated with close friendship."
Kanaya thinks she understands. "Moirallegiance?"
"Another echo of Alternia."
Rose holds the rose loosely, and Kanaya is caught by the urge to reach out for it, perhaps tuck it in Rose's hair – but before she does so, Rose pulls her hand away, and hides the flower in the pocket of her dress.
Aradia was eager to help, as she always seemed to be.
"I've never really auspisticised before," she admitted. "But I'll do my best! I hope the three of us can work things out."
She glanced somewhat uncertainly at Vriska, who had been uncharacteristically silent, fidgeting so much it set Kanaya's teeth on edge.
"Perhaps I should talk to you separately?" Aradia suggested.
Vriska was through the door before she had even finished speaking, flying down the corridor at full speed. As Kanaya rose to close the door after her, she heard a plaintive echo: "She's our auspistice!"
Aradia appeared unfazed by all this drama – probably a good sign, Kanaya reflected. She met Kanaya's eyes, and asked, "how do you feel about her?"
Kanaya floundered. She felt many things for Vriska Serket, but she did not have the words to tell most of them. More importantly, she was not certain she wanted Aradia to know the truth. She glanced down demurely, opened her mouth to speak –
"Feel free to tell me anything."
Aradia's words made Kanaya look up again sharply. Her expression was neutral, but her faze unfaltering, and Kanaya reminded herself: they were in a quadrant now. This relationship would not work without full disclosure.
"She is infuriating," Kanaya responded. "She is arrogant, rude and hyperbolic, and when I am around her I can't stand it, I want to scream. But just as I think I'm going to strangle her I remember how desperate she is and I pity her so much that my chest aches just looking at her."
There was silence for a moment, and Kanaya was certain her words had scared Aradia off for good, but the girl just nodded.
"And what exactly do you pity the most?"
They talked it through to the end, and Kanaya felt herself lighten as she shared all of her hidden thoughts. If she had known it would feel like that, she would have suggested auspisticing long before.
"I believe that's enough for now," Aradia finished. "I'm sure Rose will send Vriska in when they are done."
Kanaya paused in the doorway. "You and Rose...?"
"Yes?"
"I have not spoken to either of you recently. What's your relationship?"
Aradia stiffened. "We live together."
"Nothing more?"
Aradia shook her head.
As Kanaya left the house, she realised why maintaining an auspistice was considered so difficult. After all that honestly, it was hard to hear such an obvious lie.
It occurs to Kanaya they have not yet discussed her own gift.
"What about purple?" she asks.
Rose gives no sign of having heard. She is staring off into the distance, an intent observer of nothing in particular, and her expression is blank.
"Rose?" Kanaya asks. The girl starts slightly.
"My apologies," she says with a smile. "I'm afraid I don't recall what purple roses symbolise. Perhaps nothing in particular."
"It reminded me of you." Kanaya's eyes are on her, but Rose sweeps her gaze across the ground, combing through the tangled flora.
"Oh!" Rose smiles at a small sprout of green, and Kanaya follows her towards it. Rose bends to pick some leaves and crushes them beneath her fingers, releasing the scent.
"Rosemary," she breathes. "Curious, isn't it – it holds your name as much as mine."
She places the leaves in her mouth, and smiles.
"Try some," she suggests. "I assure you, it isn't poisonous."
Kanaya picks a sprig herself. The herb is soft against her tongue, but the taste is slightly bitter. Before she can adjust, the leaves melt away to nothing, their neglected memory already fading.
Time passed, in that strange way it had here which left no lasting imprint. Kanaya continued to visit her auspistice, and each time she did she pitied Vriska less and resented Aradia more.
But that resentment was not all ashen.
As Kanaya locked her red feelings for Vriska away – built a wall around them and starved them until it was only natural they faded into nothing – a second prisoner, one she had long thought dead, awoke. In the dead of night, doubts broke loose, and stole through her mind.
She tried to tell herself that it was all imagined – that they had never shared more than curiosity and daydreams, that they had barely spoken in months, that it was all forgotten. Rose and Aradia held a certainty between them, the same confidence Rose shared with Vriska, and what could that be but serendipity? But such notions are not so easily dismissed, and deep inside her dreams, the faintest of hopes continued to glow.
It was the strangest thing, the way she convinced herself of the impossible.
She wished she could just ask someone – but who? Aradia would not be drawn on the subject, and Vriska could not be trusted. That left only Rose. Rose, who could unerringly extract her poise with a surgeon's tongue and leave her a fumbling wreck.
Rose, who stood before her.
"Miss Lalonde," she acknowledged – always with that strange formality Kanaya could not quite comprehend, an Earth ritual which only bore her meaning through the faint smile in Rose's eyes.
"Miss Maryam," Rose replied. "Are your sessions proceeding smoothly?"
"Aradia is more than competent as an auspistice." Something Rose undoubtedly knew already, so why ask? Whatever Rose sought in her response, she gave no sign she had found it, save for that involuntary pause at Aradia's name.
"I was about to visit the garden."
"Aradia mentioned you take tea there sometimes."
"Did she?"
It was barely anything – an eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch, an echo of disbelief – but truth hit Kanaya like desert lightning.
She could not help but smile.
"Rose. Would you care to take a walk with me?"
Rose continues to stare at the rosemary, and Kanaya knows something is troubling her.
"Is everything alright?" she asks. "You seem distracted."
"I am perfectly well." But Rose still looks down, and Kanaya takes her hand.
"You know I care a great deal about you."
When Rose meets her eyes, Kanaya is sure she glows with a light too great to be merely reflected; it is her element, and she wears it well.
"And I care about you."
Their fingers play against each other, and for a moment Kanaya thinks they might move closer – but instead they turn and continue walking, side by side under unseen sun.