for sunny ( @quccnofpeace )
------------ᴏɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏᴄᴄᴀꜱɪᴏɴ, ꜱʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ.
Many of the plants don different masks in the dark, and Sappho has, more than once, lost herself in the sight of it all. At night, they come awake, dressing up in brilliant colours that only the moon can see........but not today. And that’s what time is should be: daytime -- about half past twelve, to be exact.
Now, as the darkness closes in above her, and there is no sun around to bring forward, Sappho walks aimlessly through the empty gardens. Two weeks ago, at this very time, supernaturals and mortals, alike, meandered their way through the beautiful worlds the gardens replicated through plant life. But, barely anything moves, now. Oh, the flowers try, feebly, reaching out to one another in a slow-motion no mortal would ever stop to watch -- but, their limp stems give up quickly. Petals wilt at her feet, brown hints of death curling them outwards. Normally, she can find something lovely about it -- a short circle of life is still a beautiful one, after all. But, normally, there is some form of natural consent in it. She plucks one of the dying petals from its flower, presses it to her lips.
Suddenly, her attention is being pulled elsewhere, alert bells pinching at her nerves. First, she smells her, then she sees her...and its enough to let her tensing muscles relax: That cute little pup -- a newer , familiar face to her gardens. Before anything else, it touches Sappho that she’s even here. Who thinks to come visit flowers during what feels like the end times?
“ Sorry you have to see this. ” Sappho gestures at the dying blossoms, “I hope you won’t judge them; they really are trying their best. “