CHAINED FLOWERS ( z. dragneel )

03 | "the foolish girl"

03
{ the foolish girl. }

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' h e
w h o
f o r g e t s '

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THE WOODS ARE STRANGE, LABYRINTHINE PLACES. Word and time travels fast. Black and white trails before her, swishing onto the direction of the playful breeze. Dandelions bloom in the sides and she dares to regard them with her icy eyes, but Esen is aware that at the pace they're going, her lover will find a way to lose her.

Time is unfathomable. For an immortal whose purpose is to fall in love and embrace her lover's death, the seconds, minutes and hours are merely something that held no genuine significance.

They pass towns once in a while, cobblestone pathwalks with potted plants and colorful roofs partnered with bricks and sticks. The people are lively, enthralling and there are ones who gape at her. Esen doesn't blame them. She is beautiful and she is very much aware of the capabilities of her beauty.

And the curse that comes along with it.

Maybe if she was as an unattractive as a seacow, then maybe her lover would stop falling for her and then they'd be rid of this curse. For eons now, she's thought of wounding her face, slitting the cheekbones all the way to her jaw, letting the blood gush. And maybe things will be better that way. Maybe she will be so ugly and unremarkable that the despotic gods would transfer the curse to more foreseeable prospects.

She shakes her head. What a selfish, foolish thought.

Rumors circulate as she continues following her lover, the sad raven haired thing that is careful to avoid every little thing he encounters. Twisting and turning in order to fulfill his goal of avoiding every single sign of life. And maybe lose Esen in the process. He's made it clear that he doesn't want to be near her and the first days (or was it months?) she feels a minuscule pain blossoming on her chest at the thought of his dislike for her. Then she thinks that it is for the best.

Clothesline zip above them, complete with long skirts and shawls, and she climbs stacked crates in order to reach a shawl. Surprisingly, her lover regards her with a curious look and consciously or not, she smiles.

Wrapping the shawl around her, she catches sight of the unmistakeable tinge of carnation pink on his cheeks.

"You should be careful..." he says, almost a whisper.

She looks up, shock filling her face, because it has been a long long traipse now and it's one of the few instances where he spoke.

"Pardon?"

He regards her with another distant look, and Esen oh Esen hates how she adores him, how she's falling deeper and deeper for her lover again, even though she knows the denouement of this play is everything unhappy.

"Those crates were unsteady..." he repeated, his voice mellow. "You could have fallen."

The way he says it makes it sound like as if he's chastising a child and Esen has been jaded by the time to react with an immature, obnoxious outburst, so she merely nods. The problem with communication doesn't entirely allude to his faults.