Fragile beauty.


FlowerMora sets out from the village to cast her eye over the plants which grow in the woods outside. She stops to smile at a rabbit and crouches down and quietly offers it some lush grass, and is rewarded by it approaching her to enjoy her offering.

She stops on the bridge and draws a deep breath of air, smiling as the sun warms her wings. “Ah this is such a wonderful view from here.” She watches fish darting in the river below, flashes of silver in the sun, then stops, her nose twitching as she detects something new, a different scent.

Mora notices the purple-flowered bush nestling at the edge of the bridge, joy causes her wings to flutter as she lifts to the air and lands beside it. “Oh but aren’t you a beauty… and how strange for me to have never seen such a plant as you before.” She approaches the plant to peer a little closer.

She kneels by the plant and tries to place her nose a little closer, but the perfume is far too heavy and cloying for her senses, and she shakes her head a little to clear it. She looks at the plant, head tilted, confusion in her mind.

Mora peers closely, her eyes scrutinising the beautiful petals. “Hmm… you are gorgeous, so smooth… too smooth.” She places her hands flat to the soil at either side of the plant and closes her eyes, concentrating on sensing the life of the plant. She screws her eyes up as she feels nothing, there is no pulse or throb of life flowing from the ground to the plant. Her eyes open slowly and narrow as she looks at the plant. “Hmm… you are beautiful, of that there is no doubt.”

Mora feels her stomach churn at the thick scent from the blooms, far too strong for her sensitive senses. She places one hand around the crystal at her neck and closes her eyes again, her other palm flat to the soil at the base of the plant. She whispers softly, her concentration blending with her words as the crystal vibrates softly and the fairy’s senses flow into the soil, seeking roots or a life source for the plant.

Mora notices that the plant does hum a little, but not from anything natural flowing to it. It vibrates but not with life. She frowns at it “Beautiful indeed, but nothing pulsating with the joy of life, I don’t think.” She lifts her hand and flicks one of the petals, gasping as it shatters and falls fo the ground.

Mora picks up a piece of petal and holds it to the light, her eyes wide “It’s… almost… like glass” She whispers. She then lets it fall into the palm of her hand. It is indeed a thing of beauty, but not crafted by hands, there is no sign of tooling. She gathers the pieces and makes a hollow in her skirts, meaning to carry it home or to the library to look at it closer. She doesn’t like to leave the plant, but decides there is nothing more she could do for now. She will return later. Her wings flap quickly and she lifts to the air, heading back to her home in the village.


The next day, Mora pulls on her boots and finishes fastening her belt. She sighs as she looks across at her pretty dress, discarded for today. “No, something a little more business-like today, I think'” She notices the purple stains on her skirt which was all that remained of the fragments of the flower she collected from the bridge. It was time for her to head to the library and see if she could find any reference to

Mora flies across to the library and shudders a little as the strong smell from the plant near the bridge reaches her sensitive nose. She lands and opens the door to the library and smiles at the sense of quiet calm inside. She nods at the initiate who is busy tidying. She doesn’t know her name, but has seen her before. “Hello there! I… I am looking for any scrolls or plants on the plants that are to be found here” She waves her hand as the initiate starts to complain “I know, I know…. you would think *I* would know them all, but there’s something new.” Mora stops herself from saying more, preferring to check natural life first. The initiate nods and points at two large bound editions. Mora nods and starts to search through the aged pages.

It doesn’t take Mora to flick through both bound books. Each plant contained in them is one she knows from the roots up. She closes the second book and places her forehead on it, eyes closed… and thinks hard. She’s aware of the initiate coughing softly to attract her attention. Looking up, Mora rubs her forehead and drops her voice a little, checking they are not being listened into. “Have you heard of flowers made from glass before? No… not glass. It was fragile as glass, but after a while it was… gone?”

The girl looks at her, puzzled. “Made of glass, but then gone?”

Mora tries to explain and tells the girl about the plant she found, and how she collected the pieces, but that when she got home, all that was left was a purple stain on her dress from it.

“So… so when you got home it had melted to nothing?” the initate asks.

Mora blinks… and looks at her, open- mouthed. “Yes! It…had… melted.”


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