(Untitled)

[lethe_forgets]

The Line is especially slow today - dull and dim and lifeless. This is not an overly unusual or surprising sort of thing, but it is a true thing and Lethe is rather entirely bored. The souls do not argue - they do not even do very much at all. It's not that she is one to complain or anything, of course, it is just that she is not really capable of

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[potamoi_aidaou]

"Flowers," the bouquet replies in a familiar voice.

Which, she thinks, is rather odd, given the fact that flowers are not supposed to talk - and, that if they were, they would most certainly not sound at all like Acheron.

Especially poppies.

Poppies, she imagines, would sound like Hypnos. It would be only proper.

[lethe_forgets]

"Yes?"

Her eyes cross, unfocus slightly between the proximity and the inherent dizziness of the flowers themselves.

Her head swims a bit. It's not entirely pleasant.

"I can - uh - see?"

[potamoi_aidaou]

"Well?"

The flowers swish again, demonstratively this time.

[lethe_forgets]

Lethe isn't exactly certain what they want from her.

Or what Acheron wants from her, rather. Yes.

"Well, what?"