Windamier

Flowers were easy.

Flowers never hurt him, not purposely of course. Everyone knew roses had thorns, that belladonna was toxic, to stay away from patches of poison ivy and all manner of things. There were rules in place. Simple, concrete, and easy to follow.

Don’t touch the thorns, be careful of where to step, and don’t eat random berries.

People, on the other hand, were different. There were a whole slew of unwritten rules, hidden pitfalls to trap the unwary. Too much eye contact was disconcerting, too little was suspicious. Don’t over step, but don’t under step either. Be confident, but not overconfident. Don’t brag, but don’t downplay achievements. Smile, be nice, be grateful, be kind, laugh at all the right times, be there at all the right times, say all the right things.

But being here… suddenly everything made just as much sense.

There was Venus who burst into his life like a whirlwind, all laughter and bright eyes, taking him by the hand. Selling flowers by the roadside, putting together bouquets, joking and talking together late into the night.

There was Bailey dragging him along on adventures, looking for the newest flower, the coolest flower, waxing poetry because who else would she take along on these escapades if not the resident flower boy?

There was Celes asking for help decorating the stage with flowers, painstakingly picking the best ones and displaying them with care. Late nights with Antares, pouring over research journals together, candles lit and shadows long. Days spent with Midrin, bent over flowers and watching how magic spun and twined to nurse and care for his plants.

There was a time when Windamier didn’t think he had a family, not after the whole fiasco back home (Home, even though a part of him twinged because was it really home when it had never felt quite right?). But here, perhaps, maybe it could finally be considered his family.