Bloom

3: The Name Given To Them

Awake. They part their eyes, exiting a dream. As they awaken, their body aches. They don't recall a time where they've slept, but then again, how could they know if they've forgotten? As they push themself up from sleeping on their side, they notice bits of petals. Wilted, scattered. When they reach out to pick them up, the pieces break apart. Instead they turn their attention to the billowing darkness, then the same light from above. It really was just a dream. They remember bits of the dream; they were running in a field of wheat. Wind blowing in their hair. The sky was a rose pink, no clouds in sight. It was peaceful. Then they were pulled away from the dream, once they realized their reality was a sharp contrast.

As they peer around their shoulder, their face is almost kissed by a tulip. Another one? This tulip is a bold red. They look down at the spotless floor, where a reflection stares back up. They never felt a need to examine the flowers, but since they have nothing better to do, they adjust their position to get a better look. Pain knocks on their body, but they try to ignore it. More red tulips appear. Five of them, enough to make a small bouquet. Mentally they count the petals at thirty. So thirty people have died. They know that they should be struck with remorse, yet they feel nothing. Their mind drags them back to what Mortelline said.

"Yes, life is a precious thing, isn't it?"

They have to admit, even though they despise her attitude, she's right. Why is life so delicate? After pondering renders fruitless, they shoo it away by standing up. The ache remains, but doesn't change. They run their hands through their hair as a way to distract themself from it. Their fingers forcibly stop once they come across a clump of matted hair. The rough texture makes them feel around it, trying to move it so they can have a better look. The hair hooks onto a tulip stem. The pain pounds. Their hand retracts as they grit their teeth to try and swallow the pain.

They're a prisoner. A prisoner trapped in a dark room, all alone. They feel their eyes travel back to the petal pieces. Some are crumbling into flakes of dust. Some dance in the still air. Suddenly a door opens. They turn to see.

Pepper approaches them. They're not carrying anything with them other than a soft smile. They watch Pepper while standing still, unsure if they should hide in the darkness or stay put. Pepper stops a good ten feet away.

"How are you feeling?"

No answer. The prisoner stands and stares with furrowed eyebrows. Pepper's smile falters.

"Oh, I see."

They expect Pepper to leave, however it doesn't happen. They remain put at a fair distance, rocking back and forth on their feet.

"Mortelline was in a snappy mood today," they say. "She felt like she should come here to vent her frustrations, but I told her it'd be better if she took a nice stroll."

They stop swaying and stand on their tippy toes to glance at the fugitive's back.

"More tulips?" Pepper sounds ecstatic. "May I have a peek?"

They blink, thinking their eyes were playing tricks. They swear they saw a mini galaxy light up in Pepper's eyes. It makes them soften up for a moment, straighten out. They remain mute, but turn around a bit.

"Wow! They're red this time! Red tulips signify an undying love."

The ache dulls, so they decide to face Pepper and sit down. They feel weak again. Pepper mimics them and sits as well, still far away. A petal blows in between them and lands on the floor. Pepper looks at it fondly, the contact of the floor making the petal wilt. Their expression changes to empathy.

"Mortelline taught me about flowers. She says every flower has a meaning embedded in its petals. Just like how every death has a story amongst the living."

Pepper reaches a hand out to pick up the delicate petal. They cradle it, marvelling in its faded colourful beauty.

"Say... do you have a name?" They ask. "I'm sure you do, but, my mother never seemed inquisitive enough to ask."

They blink again. Ponder. Their eyes travel to the black sky while they dig deep into their mind. Nope. Nothing. They shake their head. Pepper lights up.

"How about the name 'Tulip'?" They say with a sparkle to their tone. "Tulips are my favourite flowers - I mean, because your spine seems to be sprouting in the spring season."

They raise an eyebrow. Tulip? They admit that the name sounds quite pretty. It's better than being nameless. They finally nod, to which Pepper beams.

"Okay okay, let's restart our previous introduction," they shimmy a bit while seated, then hold out a hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Tulip! My full name's Peppermint, but I prefer being called Pepper!"

Awkward. Tulip is skeptical about approaching this weird stranger, so they stay still with a perplexed expression.

"Tulip," Pepper mutters, "you're supposed to hold out your hand. It's what humans do when they greet each other."

Still nothing. Tulip finds it odd as to why they'd adopt a human practice, since they both are deities. At least, that's what they think Pepper is, too. Having given up, Pepper slowly brings their hand back to their lap in defeat.

"Oh... okay... I see. We're still, still strangers, right?"

Tulip parts their mouth slightly, but quickly closes it. They stare off into the darkness again. Did I actually feel guilty for them there? No... I cannot. Their attention is alerted back to Pepper once they notice them stand up. They exit the room, the door shutting with an echoed squeak. Something in them wants to get up and follow and escape, but they know on the other side is an angry goddess and what could be an endless hallway. So they remain situated, straightening their posture. As they do, another ache lingers. It feels like needles poking the skin. This is new.

Eventually the full-blown pain grows on their back. They turn around and notice a new flower is beginning to bloom. Pure white, like an angel's wings, yet has the maw of a vile dragon.