Crimson-coated petals drifted from grimaced cracked lips, budding and blossoms tearing pale hollow skin to breathe, Flesh broken like a fractured mirror. You do not choose who you befall, who adorns your heart and wrenches your lungs asunder. It is the curse and gift of love, profound unyielding adoration. It is a fate while undecided a doomed fate nonetheless. -- Mitchell is a young mage studying the field of life, flora and fauna. He had been vigorous in his study and growth in the arcane arts alongside three now trusted friends. When petals fell from his lips after a coughing fit he realizes he was cursed by fate to fall by the twisting thistles borrowing their roots into his sundered flesh. He decided to keep it hidden at least for now. Why worry them, surely it was bound to go away right?All Rights Reserved