Death: The Fall of Endsville

Chapter Twelve: A Heavy Heart

The Next Day

The royal garden lay silent, blanketed in the warm hues of a tangerine sunset as the last traces of sunlight faded into twilight. Note knelt close to the soil, her fingers carefully pressing down the earth around each bloom she had torn up in a frustrated outburst the day before. Every flower she replaced felt like a small act of penance, an attempt to regain some sense of control over the tangled emotions within her. Memories of the healer's ward with her father, of feeling the emotions and heartbeats of others as if they were her own, haunted her thoughts, a weight she didn't know how to carry.

A quiet sound broke through the silence—the soft crunch of leaves underfoot just outside the garden gate. She looked up, and her heart skipped as she saw a familiar figure standing there, half-hidden in the deepening shadows of evening.

Color waited on the other side of the ivory white iron bars, a quiet presence framed by the misty outlines of the forest behind him. His attire blended seamlessly with the muted tones of the trees and fallen leaves—a dark, rugged cloak wrapped around his shoulders, its coarse fabric catching the last dim light. Beneath it, he wore a simple, earthy tunic of heavy cloth, layered with dark leather straps and a thick belt tied with knots, suggesting both practicality and a readiness for travel. In the palms of his long, dark gloves, he gripped a large bundle wrapped in cloth, a sprig of wild lavender tucked carefully into its folds.

His face was, as usual, concealed behind a cloth mask that covered his mouth and nose, leaving only his eyes visible. Those eyes—warm, familiar, and filled with a quiet kindness—met hers through the gate, crinkling slightly at the edges as if he were smiling behind the mask.

"I brought you something," he called softly, his voice gentle and muffled by the mask but still carrying warmth.

For a moment, she could only stare, taken off guard by his presence and the thoughtfulness in his gesture. Rising to her feet, she approached the gate, her fingers curling around the cold iron bars as she looked up at him with a shy smile. "You... brought me something?" she asked, her voice tinged with both surprise and gratitude.

He stepped closer, extending the bundle through the bars, his gloved fingers brushing against hers as he passed it to her. "I thought you might like a little company," he said quietly. "And maybe some of my homemade delicious yum-yums."

She took the bundle carefully, unwrapping it to find slices of bread, a jar of jam, and a handful of fresh berries and cherry tomatoes—all arranged with simple elegance. She couldn't help but smile as she traced a finger over the lavender sprig he'd added. "Thank you, Color," she murmured, her voice soft. "I... didn't expect this."

Color leaned casually against the gate, his gaze sweeping over the garden, taking in the freshly replanted flowers with a hint of gentle amusement. "I figured you might be out here alone," he said, his eyes returning to hers. "Thought I'd make sure the flowers survived the night." His tone was light, teasing, yet beneath it was a genuine warmth that made her heart feel lighter.

She chuckled, glancing down as a faint blush crept into her cheeks. "Yeah... I may have been a little hard on them yesterday."

"Well, they look like they're forgiving you," he replied, his eyes softening. He tilted his head, his gaze steady and curious. "But I'm guessing there's more on your mind than just flowers?"

She hesitated, her fingers brushing over the lavender in the bundle. "It's... more than that," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... sometimes, it feels like too much."

Color's gaze softened as he watched her, his gloved hands resting on the bars of the gate. He didn't press her for more, but his presence was steady, inviting her to speak if she wanted to. The quiet patience in his eyes, just visible above the mask, made her feel as though she didn't have to put on any pretense with him. She could just... be.