Bloom

5: The Matted-Haired Deity

"Red tulips signify an undying love."

Red, the colour strikes them like a jutted dagger. They may not be familiar with the meanings behind the flowers they sprout, but they know what the colours mean. Love, lust, passion, strong desire, anger.

"Ah! Red ones mean death."

Their brows pinch together. With anemone, though, red means death. Black is usually associated with death, which is obvious when it comes to the tall goddess's attire. They feel their eyes wander up to the light dangling from the ceiling. Fingers guide themselves into their hair, which has now become more and more difficult to comb through. They let go of the tangled mess, not wanting to make it worse, or have their hair hook onto a stem again.

Rocking back and forth, they stare down at their reflection. Pepper should've returned by now. They take a glance at their back and realize it has bloomed into a bouquet of colour. Yellow, blue, red. All splay out in delicate, painful beauty. They recognize the yellow being daisies. Nine petals. Counting the rest of them will take millennia, so they give up and return back to their rocking posture.

A few minutes prior, they examined the room. Or at least, made an attempt, before the pain shackled them back to their usual spot. The room seems endless. Every step they took echoed. They wonder how, if they could use their voice, if it would erupt into chatter vibrating the walls. They know they have a voice, as they clear their throat. Speaking, however, has proven to be a challenge. It was Mortelline, they retorted in their head.

Suddenly, the door opens. Expecting it to come from a different area, they realize it's back to the large door. A slow creak reverberates into the darkness. Something slides along the floor. In that moment, their stomach plummets.

"Still in the same spot as before, hmm?"

Glass heels gracefully glide along the floor's mirrored surface. Still undamaged. Mortelline enters with her usual confident strut. They ready themself, with tightened arms around their knees.

"Well I suppose there's no point in looking around," she says with a snicker, "there's nothing to see other than a midnight sky with no stars or moon."

They can't smack the goddess away like they did with Pepper, so they stare. Up they stare, into her pink lemonade gaze. She is leaned over, the fluffed top of her dress hugging her shoulders.

"What a terribly lovely sight to behold. Many types of flowers today," she paces around them while taking in a whiff. "Morning glories, daffodils, peonies... ahh, the fragrance of someone's demise, right?"

She stops in front, her smile dropping to disgust.

"Goodness, you look awful."

Instinct makes them look down at their reflection on the floor. A rat's nest is forming on their head. Mortelline struck a nerve at their withered self-esteem, but they have to agree. It's an unpleasant sight. Another chuckle brings them back to her.

"What a strange contrast. Beautiful flowers that remind you of death, and here you are, living, breathing, under a matted mop."

She makes a muffled 'ugh' sound, before turning and strolling over to where the door is. Watching her remark on their appearance, then turn to leave, causes weary feelings to bubble inside. Not even the pain that grips at their delicate spine can hold them back. Something buried in their core erupts in a gutteral rage.

"Why did you remove my ability to speak?!"

Shock. Utter shock. I can talk? Mortelline stops in her tracks. She drops her head a bit, laughing. Cackling. So hard her shoulders bounce. She turns her head with a wide grin.

"Darling, as much as I'd love to have that ability, I curse my prisoners with spells related to death, not as silent meat puppets."

Shock forms into confusion. Then exploding anger once more. They sprint after her, feet slapping hard against the floor with each stride. In one final cackle, the door shuts, seconds before they make it. They almost slam their face against it, before their hands come in for the instinctive save. Stopping, sinking down to the floor in defeat. Agony riddles their body in radiating waves. Tears form, but not because of the pain.

It was what they feared, but suspected.

The knobless door blinks in and out of existence whenever someone enters or leaves.