Finished Rushing River, Drifting Flowers PV Elena Clark

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I exist. In a thousands of agonies - I exist. I'm tortured on the rack - but I exist ! Although I sit alone - I exist ! I see the sun, and if I don't see the sun, I know it's there. And there's a whole life in that, knowing that the sun is there. Deeply buried in one of her favourite books (The Brothers Karamazov, Dostoevsky), the moonchild was hiding from the burning rays of the sun, and found shelter in the shadow of a weeping willow. Its long branches, with falling leaves, hid her from the gaze of students passing by, and offered an illusion of heaven - the gentle rush of a nearby source of water, the soft chirping of birds, the sweet breeze playing with the golden strands of her air. The grass nearby was scattered with scented flowers, the smell mingling with a persistent scent of... mango ? Frowning, the young girl raised the nose from her book, only to meet two warm honey-coloured eyes and a bright smile. A familiar sight, one she quickly linked to the party back in december, where she was blinded by the radiant warmth emanating from him. Lemons and beaches, sand and ice creams - the embodiment of a sweet childhood summer. It took her a few seconds to react, as she blinked twice, not moving an inch. His greeting was the declic, and she jumped, a gasp escaping her. "Ah !" He plopped down next to her, the smile never leaving his lips. Trying to gather her thoughts, her eyes wandered down to the clothes he was wearing. "You like the Smiths ?" she asked bluntly, a light excitement audible. Elena, focus, reply to his hello. "I mean," she cleared her throat, a matching smile now curving her lips. "Hey Cirrus ! I've been good, and you ?" There it is, good job. Luckily the sunshine-made boy seemed to have a thousand thoughts running per seconds, meaning he would not take offense in her impressive lack of social skills. Holding off what seemed to be an uncompleted scrapbook, he then blabbered something incomprehensive - forgive the young raven for not understanding his heavy accent. Luckily, she managed to pick up a word - flowers - and decided to go along with it, as often when she could not hear what the other was saying. "Sure !" She smiled, nodding. "Flowers are marvelous, especially in this season."

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Flowers were releasing small particles of pollen, swirling in the sunlight and gently settling on top of the two children. Brushing one off her jeans, Elena noticed her new friend seemed to be quite sensitive to the little devils - an allergy she was pleased to be immune against, though the way their house was perpetually filled with flowers of all sort might have had trained her immune system. Hmm, now that she was thinking of it, perhaps she could drag an ill-tempered cat there ? Despite their friendship being unexpected, she did felt like the two of them had grown closer, and knowing his love of plant he was sure to adore her mom's greenhouse. Snapping out of her trance, Elena's eyes narrowed as she tried to distinguish the words Cirrus was uttering. Nevertheless, her face lit up as she heard the title of a song she adored. "The boy with the thorn in his side ?" she squeaked excitedly. "My parents often dance to the rhythm of this song, I love it." She nodded at his analysis, then grew silent for a few seconds to gather her thoughts. Anytime someone asked to rank things she liked, she suddenly forgot all about it. "I would say...," she mused, "I Know It's Over." Despite being a bit sadder than the rest, this song held so much meaning to her it was an obvious choice. "And yes, I do love the Smiths. Even if they're not my favourite band. What's yours ? Favourite band, I mean ?" Stumbling over her words and forgetting some, Elena cringed at her incapacity of holding small talk. Remembering to relax her shoulder and stop staring at that one single strand of grass, she instead focus on the poor stick Cirrus was tormenting. When he broke it, she picked another one and pushed it before him. "The Brothers Karamazov, Dostoevsky," she replied, lovingly running a hand on the hardcover. "It was my father's and he gave it to me when I left for Hogwarts. Do you happen to read ?" Before she knew what was happening, Elena was dragged upward by a steady hand. Raising to her feet, she gazed at the brown haired boy in confusion, wondering which part of her conversation had made her sign a pact with... well a mischievous elf, in that case. 'Devil' would be used the describe whatever the opposite of Cirrus was. She had no time to protest before being guided through the woods, grass growing wilder at each step they took. As he leaned to pick up a flower, it suddenly clicked. "Oh," she laughed, "the scrapbook !" He must have somehow asked her to accompany him and she must had gave an affirmative answer. Pleased that her poor understanding of his dialect turned out to be the right choice, she immediately began picking up flowers. Irises, harebells, snowdrops and heathers soon came together in a harmonious ensemble of purple and white. Turning around, she noticed the coffee-haired boy had somehow crafted a beautiful flower crown, and was humbly presenting it to her, an offering. A bell-like laughter erupting from her throat, and she ceremoniously bowed, allowing him to place it on her golden locks. "It seems I have been crowned Queen of Mirth," she giggled, taking advantage of him being too focused on his new picks to sneak behind him. Soon, an ivory and lilac crown adorned his soft curls, and she winked before leaning to pick a thistle. "Did you know they were considered Scotland's national flower ?" she asked, presenting it to the sunbathed boy. Taking a few steps before twirling softly, she spotted a few other candidates. "What kind of flowers do you need for your scrapbook ?"

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Despite the answer to his question being an obvious one - and one she didn't want to share, not in this setting - she actually took a second to reflect on his question. The first time she had ever listened to it was by stealing one of her father's old vinyle, in the dead of night, to try and find some company within the endless dark hours that seemed to stretch behind infinity. The sheer despair held in his voice had truly cracked something in her, and without thinking tears had streamed down her cheeks. She had listened to it ever since. "I adore the poetry of the lyrics, I suppose," she mused, "though I must admit it is the music that got to me." Watching him break another stick in amusement, she raised her eyes once he started pondering her question. "Oh ! I know of TV girl, but I do not know the other... IKON, was it ?" She questioned, tilting her head slightly. "Mine is Radiohead," she then smiled. "Though I also like Mitski and Hozier. Oh, and ABBA." Too many to quote, actually. "It's...." she frowned, "philosophical. A bit too much on a sunny day like this, actually, even for me." Dostoyevsky was more of an autumn read, and her mind kept wandering to the light breeze and the sound of leaves gently deposing themselves in the clear water. "Sure, mangas count ! Happy to hear you share my love for books, though I believe I've never actually read one before. Manga, I mean, not books, because I am reading one right now." Stars, just shut your mouth, Elena. Rushing through the fields like a true queen of may, Elena had never felt more alive and content. Curiously, the extroverted boy's laugh was quiet - not something she expected yet the soft sound of it reminded her of childhood memories. Nodding, the girl then began to gather more flowers, offering them to the boy with the matching crown each time her hands were becoming too full. After a long moment, they both had their arms filled with all sorts of plants that Elena was fighting the urge to name. Suddenly, the sky darkened. Yet oblivious, the two of them were too far lost in their flowery madness to take it into account, until the first water dropped right on top of Elena's nose. "Uh oh." In less than a few seconds, a pouring rain crashed down on them. Yelping, Elena let out a high pitched scream before grabbing Cirrus' wrist and running towards the castle. Why are we so far away ? Mid race, her foot hit a rock and she stumbled, luckily managing to stabilise herself. Resuming their race, she could not stop the grin splitting her face from transforming into another access of laughter, as they both traced under the pouring rain.

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