(Untitled)

[_to_the_bone]

"For Santino," Jack tells the bar quietly, dropping the thick white paper down on its surface.

Then slides away quickly, to find a place where he can sit in shadow and watch.

Comments

[lethe_forgets]

The little nymph is far too quiet to ask how to help.

And so she waits - all blue eyes and silence - folds her fingers and pulls.

The rose, when it unfolds near his hand, is fine and sweetly spun. Crystal petals gently curved and clear as ice - a treasure, something simple.

[_to_the_bone]

"Oh."

He scoops it up in his hands, and peers close.

"Oh, it is lovely. Lethe?"

[lethe_forgets]

She tilts her head and the edges of her flicker - she walks slowly, carefully.

"Like it?"

Her fingers fall to tug lightly at the hem of her dress.

"It took a while to find."

[_to_the_bone]

"It is beautiful."

He nods, seriously.

"I like it very much."

[lethe_forgets]

"Oh."

A soft exhale and something uncoils, un-tenses the slightest bit.

She manages a crooked sort of smile.

"I am - that is good."

[_to_the_bone]

"Good."

He extends a hand towards her.

"And how are you?"

[lethe_forgets]

That's all the invitation she needs before she's there and close and tangled up again.

"Missed you."

Her fingers tug his softly.

"I am better - how are you?"

[_to_the_bone]

"Fine."

He shrugs.

"Tired, though. Have you done aught? Seen sights or danced dances? How did you find this flower?"

[lethe_forgets]

She frowns mildly - a worried, protective sort of frown - and kisses him softly on the forehead.

"Nothing spectacular," she admits. "Just here and my place."

She glances down at the flower and smiles softly.

"People forget all sorts of beautiful things."

[_to_the_bone]

"It is perfect."

He'll cherish it.

"Thank you very much."

[lethe_forgets]

"You are most welcome."

Presses another kiss to his cheek.

"It is, I think, all a matter of them getting found again."

A quick, bright smile, "Want to see something?"

[_to_the_bone]

"Of course."

He returns the smile, softly.

"I always do."

[lethe_forgets]

She curls one tiny set of fingers around his - tips pressed against the roses' stem - and there's something like a tug, a sweeping sort of feeling.

A light, creeping color and the rose tints blue where the light hits - a water color, a winter color.

[_to_the_bone]

"Oh, oh."

He stares now, eyes wide in wonder.

[lethe_forgets]

A quiet chime, like laughter, and she leans her cheek against his shoulder.

"It is pretty, I think."

[_to_the_bone]

"It is beautiful."

He kisses the top of head.

"And thank you."