Bloom

10: The Floral Student, The Deep Thinking Teacher

During Tulip's time, they have been reading the flower book. Whenever Mortelline entered the room, they'd quickly slide the book away to be gulped up by the darkness. Once she left, they'd scour with their hands to retrieve it, then continue reading. They have noticed, though, that it's been quiet enough for them to hear their thoughts clearly. Pepper hasn't been around in a while.

They flip to a new page.

"Carnations, also known as clove pinks, situate with the family of Caryophyllaceae. It is said these flowers resemble the appearance of frilly ballet dresses. They come in an array of many colours but are typically seen in shades of pink. The fragrance they emit is impossible not to take a whiff of!"

They take a quick glance at their back. The flower is incomplete, with only ten small, white petals so far. The stem is much longer than other flowers they've seen. With a flick, they search through the pages for the flower. Then they come across it.

"Part of the pea family, white clovers display many tiny petals that rise from an arrangement of clovers. Clovers are the main symbol of luck, particularly four-leafed clovers. These flowers are edible, typically eaten or dried for teas."

Tea. They shake their head, now filling with doubt. Why do I keep thinking of them? They admit the company is a nice change from the lonely darkness, but remind themself that Pepper is not a friend, and that they need to be wary around them. I need to gain more information from them.

A door blows wide open. Tulip panics. They close the book and push it into the darkness. Their back grows sore from too much movement, restricting them to an awkward seated posture. It's Mortelline, but she's not wearing her glass heels, her long flowing dress. Instead it's a long, blue tunic, and beige slippers. Her hair is up in a tight bun. In her grasp is a wine glass, nearly empty.

"I had an epiphany while sipping my wine."

She slowly strolls in, not looking at Tulip. Her eyes are fixated on the liquid swirling around in the glass.

"Why is it only when some of them die that their value is seen? Why can't they celebrate when some of them are alive? Even with the day they celebrate, it is a year closer to their death."

It takes Tulip a few seconds to realize she's talking about the mortals.

"I'm unsure as well, prisoner. Perhaps it's because they turn a blind eye. Then once they realize others are mourning, they see a reason to celebrate."

Is she... is Mortelline drunk? Their eyes search for any signs, but her skin isn't kissed in pink.

"Some are too impatient to empathize the loss, but patient enough to see how it could benefit them. How disgusting, the living world shows such apathy sometimes. Yet I was bestowed the job to watch over them, like many other death deities."

Finally her eyes meet Tulip. The only part of her that's enriched in a rose shade. She takes a sip of the remainder of the wine, then walks closer to them. They tense up, trying their best not to show it, but the pain crawls.

"What's the bloom today? Ah..." she bends down. "White clover. My garden is full of them this season."

After filling her satisfaction, she turns for the door with the empty glass still in her grasp. Pain isn't the only thing crawling up Tulip's body. They have their voice, so they use it.

"Your hypothesis..."

Their voice croaks out. Loud enough for her to hear it. She stops walking, but doesn't turn. Tulip clears their throat.

"Living itself is a gift that needn't not be seen. That some unconsciously take for granted. However, death tends to be the most remembered, because it's the most feared."

They're not sure where they're going with this, like the words spoken are automatic. All they know is they feel a need to speak up to get a different reaction. They feel her mouth widen to a smile. She chuckles.

"My, my, using your head for good for once," she turns to reveal that ruby red smile, "if only you had the means to be mindful with it."

What does that mean? They raise an eyebrow at her.

"You don't remember yourself, but you remember parts that you've learned. Perhaps from another deity you met along the way. Time certainly won't tell."

"Is it true, then, that I'll never be able to remember myself?!"

The snap of their tone scared them for a moment. Even Mortelline appeared stunned.

"Pepper seems to have aided in trying to retrieve more of your memory..."

A petal blooms, driving pain up their spine.

"Tell me, prisoner..." she bats her lashes in a mocking manner, "do you fear Death?"

"I..." they cut short, pondering. "Why would I?"

She cackles. "Not death, darling. Death with a capital, as in the driving force that coincides with Life."

Tulip's face tightens. Death, opposite of Life. Together they go hand in hand with time. They try to make themself out to be braver by shaking their head. Mortelline raises a brow.

"Really? Not the tiniest bit terrified?"

They shake their head again.

"Ahh, you're shuddering at the idea, the thought of coming face to face with it. I can see it in your body language. Don't lie to yourself, darling. Even I am afraid of Death."

That makes their stomach drop. Mortelline? Afraid?

"Every deity has a fear of it, no matter if it's slight or vast. Sure, death cannot affect us, but what about Death? They say many anomalies in the world can cause a calamity. A shift in time, much like what you and many others tried to do."

Tulip swallows. Mortelline continues.

"If enough abnormalities occur simultaneously..." she applies pressure on the glass, enough for its brim to crack, "the damage becomes permanent."

The air in the room stills. Even the pain growing on their back becomes quiet.

"Until my words go through to you," her eyes lock onto them, "you will stay here with a 'friendly' reminder. Do I make myself clear?"

Tulip nods without hesitance.

"Good. Then I bid adieu for now."

She takes her leave with the broken glass. The door closes tight behind her. Tulip is left pondering. Wondering more and more about Life, Death, time, and how they themself are considered an "anomaly".

"If you're wondering how long this curse lasts. Well, that's if you decide to change your ways permanently."

They frown. So if I'm doomed to repeat myself, does this mean I'm doomed to be trapped here for all of eternity?