[ braid ] for your muse to braid mine’s hair
𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 / 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄. a gentle breeze wafts over the garden, plucking at their clothes like timid hands as they sit, faces turned towards the sun ; birdsong is carried upon wind’s breath, the only sound aside from the shifting of leaves in nearby trees & the soft notes of a wind-chime dangling from backdoor. attention falls on the soft strands of red between fingers as he methodically weaves them together : up, over, through, repeat. up, over, through, repeat.
there’s a companionable silence between them that’s more comfortable than stifling ; he used to LOATHE, in the early days, how the quiet seemed to press in from all sides, suffocating with its reminder of what was lost. fred was boundless energy, he was laughter personified ; to navigate in a world without him meant learning to embrace still moments without automatically wanting to fill the gap with an almost aggressive fervour.
his family’s patience remains something he will never be able to repay.
plucks a daisy from grass beneath, threading it into its new fiery bed where it sits, blooming against bright orange tresses that match his own. one by one flowers begin to populate the slightly lopsided braid ( no matter how hard he tried to keep it even, execution of plait more askew than he planned for ), until her hair overflows with bright white & yellow.
❛ okay ❜ a satisfied hum breaks the hush, george leaning back to survey his handiwork, ❛ i think i’m done. ❜ contemplates for a second more, before stopping her before she can move, ❛ no, wait ❜ tugs a daisy free from a cluster, flyaway strands coming loose with it ; stem finds its perch in the hole where ear used to be, flower jutting out at a jaunty angle, ❛ now i’m done. ❜
𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 ( 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ) : @ginivera
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