❛❛ a mountain rose . . . ❜❜ tone is almost dreamy as thoughts envision the thing; beautiful petals rising from betwixt mountain rock , resilitant and determined , reaching in hopes that the sunlight will offer a warm kiss , encouraging little blades of grass to do the same. like a poem———so often , the very world around them is just as poetry describes , lovely and unexpected.
not a terrible metaphor for humanity , they think. growing against all odds———despite all suffering and terrible things. they'd lost sight of things like flowers , during their own suffering. remembering them now is a lightness , a freedom in their chest. they pet a hand over the grass beneath them , offer another small smile. ❛❛ that sounds very lovely. perhaps i'll see this rose , someday. ❜❜ briefly , they consider going over every type of flower they know that lawrence may not have seen———but this would take several hours , they realize , and would likely become boring even for them. and they could grow each and every one here in their palm , but then they would exhaust their magic , be near ready for bed in the middle of the afternoon. that won't do. not for them , and not for a farm.
a gentle hum , their hands returning to their lap: only to fidget there as well , fingers twiddling. ❛❛ i don't mind a bit of preaching , by the way , as long its civil , and from the heart. ❜❜ loving one's patron and preaching about them are two very different things , they've come to understand. one is lovelier , kinder than the other. but the negative effects of zealots has before brought itself to their very doorstep———so there's a faint nervousness about them , but a welcoming as well. ❛❛ i'm sure it will only be a matter of time until i'm speaking about my———mm . . . my god , technically , but i say mother. such relationships can become a big part of one's life , hm ? so by all means , don't prevent yourself from speaking of ilmater. ❜❜
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