Bloom

18: The Bloom

It stings more than the nettle, but it's a fair warning.

"Mortelline is returning from her important council duties."

A pull of a hair strand, another tug behind the ears.

"She never states when she comes back. Usually she tells me whenever she feels the need to, which could be in the next merry minute or several millennia away."

Pepper weaves Tulip's hair into another neat rope braid while chatting. Tulip absorbs the conversation with nods. They can't help but frown slightly, knowing Pepper has been undoubtedly lonesome in this giant mansion. They hope Mortelline will decide to delay her return, as they are not intrigued by her "warm welcoming". Nevermind the curse laid on their back, which for today is another small sprout. No petals in sight.

"How is it?" Pepper scoots back. "Too tight? Tap twice if it is."

Tulip carefully feels at their hair, delicately interwoven together. They give the ground one firm tap, making Pepper sigh in relief.

"Good, good," they say. "I'm sure my mother will scold me for doing this to her 'prisoner'," their voice cracks a bit with the last word, "oh well! I'm fine resewing extra satin pillows for new guests."

Tulip swivels in their seat to face Pepper. Their eyes trace along the edges of Pepper's face, searching for any sign of regret. The expression tells them they are more on the rebellious side. Their attention is brought back when Pepper lifts a finger in the air.

"How's the pain today? I see there's no flowers as of right now."

Tulip gives it some thought. There is an ache, but it's dimmed down. They give a single tap on the floor.

"Ah, good," Pepper says. "If your back does begin acting up, though, don't hesitate to call me. Er, bang on the ground maybe? Or do your usual screaming!"

Tulip's smile grows sheepish in an attempt to mask the embarrassment. They can't help but sigh out the annoyance. The way Pepper worded it was somewhat endearing. Wait...

"I best be on my way," Pepper dusts themself off. "Duties are calling!"

They dart out of the dark room, the door blipping in and out of existence like nothing. Now it's just Tulip, the stems on their back, and a hidden book waiting to be opened. Without haste they reach for the book, just to refresh their memory again on recent flowers they've read about. Suddenly, they hear a slight tear. They freeze in place. Oh no, did I rip a page?

Ever so slowly, they reel the book over towards their knees. Their eyes scan around it, in between pages, lifting it up to check the underside. But not a new tear is in sight, just the same ones that separate asters from barberries and hollies with honeysuckles. Their eyes drop to their toga, and then it all clicks.

A tear right through the center. Carefully they lift up the torn area to examine it more. The fabric is wearing down, making little rips on the toga more noticeable. Their face flushes a hot pink, knowing at this rate they'll be nothing but bare skin and stems. To their side is the towel from earlier, along with a gradual pile of blankets. Do I have the skill to make a new outfit? There's no tools at their disposal, and then they remember the next room over with piles of fabric. No, but someone else does.

They stand up and move past the blankets and book, until they hear a loud thump on the floor, making them stop dead in their tracks. Those footsteps aren't the usual calm pitter-patter.

"Well, well, well, more obedient than Cerberus, colour me surprised."

The elegant glide along the mirrored floor makes Tulip shiver. She's here.

"Ahh, and I see you basking under the cold light in more blankets."

They turn to see Mortelline stare at the pile. Their nape grows more and more wet, because near the blankets is the book. Thankfully it seems like she hasn't noticed it yet.

"My child seems to be treating you well," Mortelline mutters with an annoyed tone, "even though they shouldn't be. This is your punishment, not some, some expensive resort! Oh, and speaking of which..."

Now she's facing Tulip. They never got a chance to fully grasp the goddess' height, as she towers high over them. The intimidation makes them feel they're brought down to the size of a quivering mouse.

"How is my beautiful castle, hmm, prisoner?" She says in a mocking tone. "Is it what you imagined? Or what you dream of owning one day? Perhaps you also took a stroll in my generous garden, as I saw some footprints that look nothing like my own child's."

They drop their gaze down. Down to the ripped part of their toga, which has become more obvious. They hear Mortelline step away, forcing them to look back up.

"Anomalies have been running rampant as of late," she says with a huff. "Lovely to know that some of them have been captured. Like you, prisoner."

Her eyes narrow upon glaring down at Tulip. Tulip swallows.

"So, prisoner, what are today's flowers?"

Tulip swallows again. "None that are present," they mumble.

"Hm?"

Their lips tremble. No, I shouldn't be afraid of her. "I don't have any."

"Don't have any?" She repeats with a raised eyebrow. "Curses don't stop until I tell them to. Let me see for myself."

Tulip's eyes dart about. For some reason they can't move. Is it anxiety? Has Mortelline restricted their movements? Her walking behind to examine their back makes them feel more exposed. Like a large spider is crawling up their arm with its terrifying legs. They can't smack her away, nor can they move. Suddenly, the room goes quiet. No sounds of cackling. No heels scraping against the floor. So they build up the courage to turn their head and see what's going on.

Mortelline has stopped. Staring dead on at the flower that has finally bloomed on Tulip's back.