Flower Crowns

vii. cupidity

" i love you to the point where the knives you've pressed onto my back began to look like cupid's arrows "

[ some of human history is altered due to the existence of roséton ]

S E V E N
c u p i d i t y

INK MET PAPER, and they made art.

     Between my fingertips, an outlet for artistic prowess was in my grasp. A pen. I had begun scribbling in the corners of my textbook out of boredom a few minutes ago, and this sort of art form was my escape to reality. Flowers blossomed in my drawing; some full bloom, others wilting, some realistic, others cartoons — just a garden full of them.

     I always had this natural affinity towards flowers, or moreover, plants – in general. It didn't have anything to do with my name, per se, yet it had intrigued me to the point that I wanted to pursue it as a career — a botanist. Just the way how these living things propagate, and bloom, and photosynthesize, had me yearning to learn more.

Mother Nature was a goddess of both disasters and miracles. Her breath brought forth life, her touch grew out flora, and her laugh gave way to whispering winds; but before all those rainbows and roses, were her tears that turned to floods, her screams that rattled thunder, and the trembling of her lips – an earthquake with ungodly destruction.

"Nobody? Will nobody answer my question?"

Everyone pretended not to hear the teacher, not even me as I continued to scribble flowers. The atmosphere was still.

A barely audible sigh clung the air. "Since nobody is going to answer, I'll have to call a random student. Uh..."

I could literally feel all of us stiffen like statues. And a sudden anxious edge came to be in our countenances, not as so much to even breathe because the thought of the teacher noticing made my heart beat erratically. I slumped further down my chair, hiding away the fear underneath wavy tendrils of hair, not making any eye contact whatsoever.

"Hm... Mrs..." — I held my breath, but I swore there was a collective sigh of all males — "Mrs. Ruetta!"

I sighed in relief. But I decided to listen to the answer, just in case it was on the exams.

"Y-yes, ma'am?" She stood.

"Again," the teacher repeated, "can you tell me the state of Belgium and Roséton in World War I? And, what caused the British to enter war?"