For the Rose

[false_kyllikki]

Kyllikki has moved the furniture in her room today, using all of her strength to press the bed into a corner and to move her boxes and her mirror while the Rose bathes and adorns herself. She has laid a soft rug on the floor so that it will not make their bare feet slip to walk it When the Rose returns, she will find the room quite ready for

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[herfourthorns]

The Rose likes to take baths -- they remind her of being watered, the same cooling feeling against leaves or skin -- or perhaps of the earth coming up to embrace her roots, and now her whole body sinking to the bottom of the tub. It feels safe, somehow, to be covered in water, and sometimes she doesn't want to come out. But it it's never too long until she feels lonely and has to fancy herself insulted that no one has thought to keep her company; with wounded vanity and braided hair, perhaps she'll deign to come out.

[false_kyllikki]

"Oh--" gasps Kyllikki when the Rose emerges, taking her hands and inspecting the braid. "You have learned to braid it yourself! How quickly you learn, flower," she says, smiling.

[herfourthorns]

It's not exquisitely done, a little too loose and clumsy, but she's proud to have done it all herself -- everything else she's fine having done for her, but she wants to look beautiful on her own. "It's not too difficult. I fancy I must be a natural at it ..."

[false_kyllikki]

"You must be," Kyllikki answers, seriously. She inspects whatever the Rose is or is not wearing--perhaps she's nude as a flower, perhaps she's wearing a loose robe or one of Kyllikki's dresses--and decides that whatever it is, it will do. "Would you learn to dance, as well, flower?"

[herfourthorns]

She's still only in undergarments, a slightly long and loose-fitting chemise, but she never was shy around Kyllikki, not of that. "To dance ...?" It's hard to keep the childish delight in her eyes, to affect a sort of serious dignity. "Why, I thought you'd never ask!"

[false_kyllikki]

She laughs, a little of that barely-concealed delight catching fire in her heart and warming it. "Then we will--!" And with that, she catches the Rose's hands, guidingdancing her lightly in a circle across the floor.

[herfourthorns]

The Rose laughs aloud -- it might not be dignified at all, to be startled into laughing and smiling like a starstruck fool, but she does, she must -- and clasps tightly the hands on hers.

[false_kyllikki]

With only the barest hint of force--not enough to send even an ill-balanced book toppling--she suggests that the Rose give a little twirl beneath Kyllikki's raised hands (not letting her go, but loosening the handclasp just slightly).

[herfourthorns]

The thought frightens her -- she doesn't want to risk falling and looking silly -- but she is a brave little flower, with claws for tigers, and with her little feet tight and close together, pushing herself to tip-toe, she spins --

[false_kyllikki]

--and she's beautiful spinning, something so tight and perfect about that movement; Kyllikki clasps her hands again when they face one another, and she draws their little circle around in a larger circuit about the floor--

(my notifications aren't coming, so I might be a little slow replying to things; sorry about that!)

[herfourthorns]

How wonderful it feels, like floating, movement made into something beautiful, and she no longer fears being so far from the earth with her feet like upturned roots gliding over the ground --

[false_kyllikki]

She can scarcely keep back a half-girlish laugh of pleasure at the Rose's expression. "You are dancing with me, flower--!" she breathes, twirling a little herself.

[herfourthorns]

"This is it? This is dancing? It's so ..." She laughs -- "It's beautiful!"

[false_kyllikki]

And for that Kyllikki can't resist a little high kick as she dances (the sort that used to make the older women say that she was showing off her legs, that she was a no-good flirt, for all Kyllikki never meant anything but the joy of the step by it). "Isn't it? Oh, you must be born with skill in dancing, as well--!"

[herfourthorns]

And it's the joy of it that makes the Rose lean in to kiss her, just a light, little press of lips ... nothing meant by it but a pure and innocent affection, something she couldn't express as a flower.

[false_kyllikki]

All the same, Kyllikki gasps and ducks her head a little, flushing bright red. "You are kind, flower," she whispers, and her grip is weak when she takes the Rose's hands again. She remembers Freyja strongly, sharply in this moment; the dance and the kiss, the shame of confession mixed evenly with the delight of being held in another's affection.