4/30/2025, 12:13 AM
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The tinkling chimes of one of her daughter's voices caught Fable's attention as she worked at tending a clump of herbs. She had been hoping to transplant the hearty population of chamomile to Avon's garden, but she wanted to be sure she did so when it was ready - when it had woven good roots that would grasp the new soil she would place it in.
One ear flicked in the direction of Illithya, straining to make out her words. Fable wanted them to have a sense of independence and to hold themselves up - for there would be a cursed day when they would have to use such a skill - but her curiosity got the best of her on this particular foray.
She lifted her head from the chamomile and made her way toward her daughter just in time to hear her fuss over the bloom who refused to show itself to the world. Fable's lips ticked upward at the edges in amusement as she stopped at her daughter's side.
She settled into a sit at her daughter's side, careful not to step on any of the bright-colored blooms around them.
Fable was thinking on her paws as she recalled a faery tale associated with them, one that told of the flower's supposed origin.
One ear flicked in the direction of Illithya, straining to make out her words. Fable wanted them to have a sense of independence and to hold themselves up - for there would be a cursed day when they would have to use such a skill - but her curiosity got the best of her on this particular foray.
She lifted her head from the chamomile and made her way toward her daughter just in time to hear her fuss over the bloom who refused to show itself to the world. Fable's lips ticked upward at the edges in amusement as she stopped at her daughter's side.
Are th' flowers sleepin', mo réaltín ?Fable asked, pressing her nose gently to the star resting on Illithya's brow. When she lifted her muzzle, she observed the coiled flower in question, noting the characteristics of its delicate petals.
Ah, I see th' problem.
She settled into a sit at her daughter's side, careful not to step on any of the bright-colored blooms around them.
That's a primrose - they're ever so shy in th' sunlight,Fable explained, her voice gentled but threaded with a storyteller's quality.
They bloom for th' moon, so they might dance in th' starlight without anyone watchin'.
Fable was thinking on her paws as she recalled a faery tale associated with them, one that told of the flower's supposed origin.
There's a whole story about 'em,Fable tacked on.
If ye want t'hear it.
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