Bloom

2: The Pain Of A Flower's Stem

The concept of sleeping never struck the individual who's now trapped in an unfamiliar space. But with every waking second, they were met with a stabbing pain radiating throughout their body, making them more and more fatigued. Weaker. Strangely, though, it wasn't the pain that was the main nuisance anymore. It was the fact that they lost their memory somewhere along the way, and ended up in a weird, locked up dungeon. They can remember sounds and things in the living world: water, urban cities, mountains, deserts, people, animals. But when it came to who they were, it rendered mute. Who was I? What's my name? Where did I come from? What exactly did I do to anger a goddess? They wonder if the goddess explained less of the curse "bestowed" on them on purpose. If she maybe took away more, like their memory.

Their mind feels clogged with more questions than answers. Their eyes are starting to get heavy. Sleep, I know what sleep is. So they try laying on the cold floor, staring up at the light never growing dim, until they realize they're laying directly on a new flower blooming. The stem being pressed down against their weight sends shockwaves up and down their body. They shoot up, screaming in agony. Tears begin to form. As they lift their head to try and catch them, they hear a door open. The same door from before. A figure approaches, making them fear it's the scary goddess.

Instead of being met with a tall ferocity, it's someone much smaller. They're walking towards them, holding something on what appears to be a plate. They watch, a cat filled with curiosity. The individual places the plate down. On it is a porcelain cup holding a liquid resembling apple cider. The aroma is earthy, like a pile of damp leaves.

"Try it," the person insists.

Their eyes drop down to the steaming liquid. Something about this stranger builds an uneasiness from within. Yet an ache beckons them to try it; what more do they have to lose? So they cautiously grab the cup and take a sip. The flavour is bland.

"Is it good?" The stranger asks with patient eyes. "I hope I didn't overdo the ingredients."

The warm liquid envelops them. Steam coils around in their nostrils. Their body relaxes somewhat, so they take another sip.

The stranger smiles. "I'll take that as a yes."

The air is filled with quiet sips amongst the silence. Even as their body relaxes, their mind and soul remain tense. Likely because they're not alone. The stranger clears their throat.

"I'm Peppermint by the way," they say. "Pepper for short. My mother, the goddess you met before, named me that because she found me in a bed of peppermint leaves. What's your, your name?"

They stop drinking, placing the near-empty cup down. It's the figure from earlier. Ah, so that's why I don't like them. They're a descendant from the goddess of high and mighty. Even though Pepper asked a question, their mouth stays closed. Pepper's expression softens.

"You're a rather shy one, I see," they say. "That's okay. I hope, though, that I don't mean ill to you."

They're acting friendly just so they can strike back like a viper. They realize Pepper disappeared. They look around, making sure their movement doesn't trigger another shot of pain.

"Oh. A yellow tulip."

Their voice is coming from behind. As they turn, they realize Pepper appears to be plucking the flower, so they swat away their hand. Their facial expression changes to scorn. Annoyed. Pepper frowns and backs off.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to fix the stem as part of it's wedged beneath your skin. I believe that's causing you more pain than it should."

'Than it should'? The words echo in their mind. They back away further, not feeling an inch of trust in their close proximity. As they do, their leg knocks over the cup. It shatters on the floor, spilling the tea that was left over. The sound rattles the empty space.

"Are you okay?!"

Pepper moves towards them with a reassuring hand, but the cursed being raises their hand, ready to strike again. This causes Pepper to stop in their tracks, then take a couple steps back. After what feels like a millennia of staring at each other, Pepper drops their gaze to the broken cup.

"I'm sorry," they say, picking up the pieces. "I'm sorry for what my mother's done."

Their position remains the same, still as a marble statue. They watch closely while Pepper picks up the pieces and drops them on the plate, which is somehow unscathed. As they watch, they study them further. Their hair is an autumn brown, likely back length, but up in a tight bun. Their eyelashes, long, with faded green-tinged irises. Their attire resembles that of a Roman tunic, except pastel green with a silk texture. Their focus deters once pain is delivered from their back again. This time duller.

"She doesn't know I'm here right now." Pepper continues. "Also, I don't agree with her punishment."

Wind blows against their face as Pepper walks by, who's cradling the pieces in their grip. The door opens and closes in a flash, and they are left alone again, accompanied by the swaying lamp light above.