Violet Eyes

1

Angela was a gentle girl in most ways. She had a soft curve to her jaw, warm ivory skin, snowy white hair and, strangest of all, pale violet eyes. Though she rarely spoke, her voice was tinted with an Irish accent, as she had only moved to California a few years ago. Many would say she was beautiful but she never looked for a partner to spend her time with. Her life was dedicated to the plants she loved so. Every morning, the girl opened her florist shop with sleep still in her eyes and the sun barely over the horizon before settling behind the flowers on her desk and letting their rich perfume comfort her. 

And on a day, like any other, Angela settled into her seat with her eyes still drooping from the night before but was startled by a familiar sound, usually heard later. She jumped at the sound of the soft tinkling of the bell suspended above her door. Suspicion that she had opened late sent a panic tingle down her spine before the spied the clock, still displaying that it was 5 AM. It was uncommon for a customer to come so early, but Angela couldn't protest any business. 

Angel caught glimpse of her surprise customer and felt her stomach tighten. This woman walked like a queen, her sharp jaw raised in confidence, her chest puffed out proudly and her black hair pulled into a tight bun atop her head with a pencil behind her ear. Though Angela couldn't put her finger on it, this woman made her feel both intimidated and interested. The woman's eyes were such dark blue they were almost black and her skin was a rich umber. Seeing the woman's lovely navy blue blouse over a black top and dress pants immediately made Angela feel as if her dirty blue jeans and grass stained tank top were not worthy of being in this woman's presence. 

"Hello, Miss." Angela squeaked, her words unexpectedly shrill. The costumer jumped, turning to look at her with wide eyes, as if she'd forgotten there was anyone else there.

"Welcome to Angela's Flower Boutique." Angela smiled shyly, wishing her cheeks weren't unfathomably warm, "I'm Angela."

"Angela..." the woman had an accent which Angela couldn't quite place. It was certainly European, perhaps South-Eastern, but aside from that? Angela was at a loss.

"Your name is Angela. Like an angel." the customer smiled to herself, "That is quite poetic. You look angelic."

"Thanks." Angela's voice became a chirp again, her entire mind fuzzy from the compliment, "I bet you sound like your name too."

Angela didn't have a moment to process what an odd comment that was as the customer let out a heartfelt laugh that gave Angela a sensation like she was melting.

"Why thank you. My name is Nyx, actually." the customer smiled warmly, her own cheeks beginning to take a rosy undertone. 

"Nyx?" the florist sorted through her mind for the meaning of that name, "Like... the goddess?"

"Indeed, Angel. I am named after the goddess." Nyx turned to look at the rows of blooming flowers, "She is the sky in Greek Mythology. When I was born, my Mitéra saw my odd blue eyes and said they were like the sky."

"Mitéra?" Angela asked.

"Greek. It means mother." Nyx pulled something she had tucked under her arm out. A large sketch pad. She pulled her pencil down an opened the pad to a random page, looking at each flower carefully. Angela was stunned at how quickly they had gone from conversation to this but Nyx seemed to have retracted into her own world once more. Angela didn't think she was welcome in Nyx's world and she was far too timid to try.

Nyx stayed for nearly an hour, the only sound in the shop being the scratching of her pencil, occasionally interrupted by her heels clicking on the hard wood floor. Eventually, the clock sounded 6 AM with the sound of a small wooden bird chirping from its stand. Nyx immediately clapped her notebook closed, tucked her pencil away and went out, leaving Angela watching her curiously. It certainly hadn't felt like an hour. Just watching Nyx draw felt like it was what she was supposed to do. Other customers, both regulars and strangers, passed in and out throughout the day but Angela couldn't seem to forget the beautiful girl with the night sky in her eyes and the name of a goddess.

The modest florist hoped terribly that her new fascination would return and on the next day, her wish came true.