9: The Quiet Exchange

5 2 0
                                    

Tulip feels like they're knowing more and more about the deities around them. From Peppermint, to Mortelline, even Freya, the strong willed Norse goddess. They're knowing more about flowers, their meanings, their connections. But they're not getting to what they want to know the most: themself. Reaching into their memories turns up as an empty, blank canvas. They decide to make use of the time and scribble something down, then slide the paper back under the door.

They wait. Patiently this time. The paper and pen are returned. Tulip goes back to the light. Pain crawls up their back. They realize a strand of hair has locked around one of the flower's stems, so they carefully remove it. Once they fix the minor nuisance, they start reading the new paragraph.

"The cause for your amnesia seems to be because of time being meddled with. You lost some of your memory along the way. It's nothing more than floating particles in space, drifting further away."

Tulip frowns. Tightens their fist. Lost? To never be found again? They write up a response, then return the paper to Pepper. It slides back in an instant. Exhausted from having to move back and forth, they decide to stay put and adjust the paper to the light so they can read word for word.

"I'm as bewildered as you are."

A soft voice breaks out beneath the silence.

"All I know is that, nonetheless from what happened, what you may have done, time has moved that event in the past," Pepper says, "and I want to do what I can to help ease the pain from the curse my mother gave you."

They hear the door shake. Pepper had leaned against it. Footsteps grow quieter and quieter, until there's nothing. Tulip feels their whole body slouch in a sigh. They're gone? Sadness plucks out the other emotions. Pepper's words play out over and over in their head. Then the question runs it all over:

Why?

BloomWhere stories live. Discover now