Bloom

8: The Delicate Petals Of a Tulip

Pulsing pain persists, which keeps Tulip wide awake. The flowers are being nasty today for them, stabbing their back with scratchy leaves. This bloom has a golden sheen. At first they thought it was a large dandelion, but the ones that are wilting don't turn into grey puffs. The petals seem endless, so Tulip gives up on counting the deaths again. What is happening in the living world?

"Every time someone dies under the reign I am responsible for in the living world, a flower will bloom from your spine."

Whichever realm of reality Mortelline is the caretaker for seems to be a battleground. No wonder she seems uptight in nature. They're left pondering again on what they did to disrupt the "flow". "Anomaly" echoes in their mind. They stare down at their hands, now free from festered welts.

There's a hierarchy when it comes to certain deities. Multiple are needed for certain tasks, such as dealing with different kinds of death, or regurgitating the sluggish souls back into the living world. All are under the control of something stronger than any deity: time. Was I really strong enough to cause a momentary shift in time? Perhaps close enough to permanently change the flow? The more they think, the more tight their face feels, so they relax. Pain strikes their back again. They turn their head and are met with another flower of the same species, except it's a rich orange, with yellow bordering each petal. What does this mean?

Orange and yellow. Colours of the sun. Daytime? They shake their head and press further. Orange glows a passion, powerful energy, a creative mindset. Yellow is also a happy colour, but it's more optimistic. Their thoughts get interrupted by a sound. Footsteps coming from the left. Mortelline? No, her glass heels are more loud. They decide to investigate the source by crawling closer.

Something slides under where the small door usually is. A crack of light, revealing a book. The title reads "Flowers: Everything You Need To Know About Their Petals". Tulip blinks, their fingers caress its smooth texture. Some of the papers are a bit tattered, meaning this book is either aged or used frequently.

Another thing slides under the door - paper, accompanied with a fancy looking fountain pen. On the paper is something written in neat calligraphy.

"When you can identify the flowers on your back, write them down and send the paper back under the door. I'll write back the meanings."

Pepper. They have returned. But Tulip doesn't feel welcomed by it. Still, the flowers remind them that Pepper could be used as a dictionary at their disposal. Without haste they flip through the pages. Maybe this time they'll have a better meaning. The more they explore the pages, the harder it is to read. The light poking underneath the door is too dull for any of the words to translate. Quickly, they run to a better light source a good twenty feet away, then start flipping through again.

Hydrangeas, daisies, periwinkles. Some are flowers they don't recognize at all; hibiscus, ox-eye daisy, wolfsbane. Each page shows a region they are located at in the living world, followed by a short excerpt explaining the flower. They come across a page for black dahlia.

"Ah, the first bloom. Black dahlia. How fitting."

Black is the colour for death, but this flower also has a burgundy hue. They shake their head, persevering through more pages. Where is it? The pages seem endless, popping out with vibrant colour. Blue. Red. Magenta. Finally after minutes of scouring, they find the flower that's nestled in their back: marigold.

"These flowers bloom in the same family as sunflowers and daisies. They come in an array of different orange shades, but can also come in golden yellow or white."

The case is nearly solved. They shuffle back to the door where an eager pen and paper await, and begin writing down the names of the flowers. Once they're satisfied, they slide it back under the door. A few seconds turn into several. The soreness from their back hooks them up from their kneeling posture. Still, they wait. And wait. They tap the floor with their fingernail, hoping for a signalled response back. Nothing.

Tulip sighs. Defeat. What is there to trust, right? They glance back at the book, still on the same page for marigold. Suddenly, a noise. They turn their head and are met with the paper and pen being returned. More writing that's hard to read. They crawl back to the light to read what Pepper wrote.

"Black dahlia means betrayal. Marigolds symbolize pain or grieving."

The answer makes Tulip frown. Betrayal, pain, and grief. It's not good enough for them. Their eyes move further down the page to a short paragraph. They stare longingly at it before diving into the words.

"When you fell ill, your back was covered in pollen from purple daisies. The colour for purple ones I cannot remember the meaning of, but daisies normally mean purity or innocence. My mother used to know Freya, the goddess of love and beauty. That's her flower. She would always leave daisies by her door, until my mother grew tired of them."