━━ orange glow.
little flower·
closed ━ @maneokamon·.
the curtains add an orange glow to the early morning light, a perfect sunrise viewable through the kitchen bay windows. the cushion became home to flora, feline and fae alike; sweet mojo jojo spread across a soft lap, paws gently crossed to echo mei’s own two legs. in the late days, a sort of rebellious spirit was awakened within the cat, which led to planters and pots on their sides, a crime scene of plant homicide. and this morning became no different. despite the glowing orb over the horizon and the joy peaking into the new day, one, then two, then three, gently swatted over into a dirty mess on the wood floors. mei ling wonders: do cats feel jealousy? did mojo grow distasteful for the companionship towards the greenery? they must, because she can’t come to a logical conclusion otherwise.
a strike. mei ling throws down the broom, washing gentle hands in the kitchen sink, and shaking tied hair down to its original length. back to bed: it’s becoming one of those days. softly, silently, in only the way a fae possibly could, she’s pushing open the bedroom door ━ well, not her bedroom. kamon’s bedroom, but is there a difference anymore? before she knows it, she’s climbing under the warm covers, morning frost still icing her bones. in the wash of new light, the naiad’s face takes on the appearance of a nostalgic photograph. almost uncomfortably, mei wraps herself around the elder, shifting into comfort at the familiar feeling of her waist. she nudges her awake, urging her roommate into the new day. “ mojo knocked over the plants again, “ she almost cries, muffled into her shoulder. “ next thing you know, he’s defiling my spirit tree, and then, i’m gone. “
years ago, in the forest of hands and teeth, kamon’s circadian rhythm was the only alarm clock she knew — while she slept in a cave where light could filter in, the sun was never what roused her from slumber.
after being spirited away to seoul, the fae was introduced to a plethora of modern inventions: the annoying and all too loud trill of alarm clocks, blackout curtains to keep the sunlight from streaming in. the naiad had tried both and kept neither, trusting her body above all else. and speaking of trusting ones body, she’d have to get up soon, find some semblance of productivity and eat some breakfast. for kamon, a desire to stay in bed was a fairly new feeling; the naiad still remembers how uncomfortable it felt to sleep on a mattress, how she’d sooner lay on the hard porcelain of her bathtub than spend the night on the soft surface of a bed.
ever since kamon started living with mei ling, the naiad had been slow to fall into slumber and slow to rise from it, shifting lazily from dream to reality. and lately, the lethargy leaves her body with more ease, as she fights the urge to roll over in search of a few more moments of sleep. when she opens her eyes, she remembers why. arms wrap around mei ling’s frame, and kamon is kissing the top of her head once, twice and six more times before she speaks her first words of the day, “should we invest in a vacuum?” the naiad asks — well, she mumbles, her voice is still thick with sleep and her nose is currently nuzzled in mei ling’s hair. “i promise i wont let you disappear, okay? i’ll scold mojo jojo so that he doesn’t do it anymore...we’re gonna have to replant the flowers, and find some more pots and...” kamon trails off, focusing on the way the dryad feels in her arms.
