gentomologist :
Though he can’t be certain, the lilt in her tone—the way it seems to ask a question—is enough to have him guessing. His suggestion about enjoying the flowers while they last wasn’t necessarily an invitation to do so right now, but he won’t say no to such a nice impromptu plan.
“Cherry blossoms,” he repeats, then starts to walk as he’s directed. “They’re pink, and on trees, so you’ll have to look above you instead of on the ground.” He’s headed toward the first park that might come up, sure that she’ll be able to spot them as soon as they’re in sight.
It was good to know that there were some nice humans. Besides her Master, others can be a bit strange. Odd. Perhaps fearful of a monster that killed. So to be shown such kindness within strangers was always a welcome site. Fran repeated the words in her head, to try and practice and practice until she would be able to speak like any other human. “Che...rry.. b... blos... soms... cherry... blos...soms.” It was much easier to pronounce cherry then blossoms, but she’ll get there eventually.
Though her little lesson would end as soon as she spots the pink flowers growning on the trees. The site stops her in place as she points at them, like a child’s first time in seeing their favorite role model for this first time. “Uhh! Cherry!”
