For a long moment, Flower was perfectly still, his brows pinched in thought, and his eyes distant. The memory of the storm forced itself to the forefront of his consciousness. The voice. The chill. He reached up, fingers pressing to his temples. A fog crept across his consciousness, burning through...

Flower slowly turned his eyes up to Sivan, shaking visibly. There were a thousand feelings rushing through him, a thousand memories. He opened his mouth to try and mirror the words Destyn said. Thank you. They were small words, and they should have been easy enough for him to repeat, but when he tr...

His head was spinning. Some part of him remembered a storm. He remembered–His dark brows pinched. The serenity of his deep and dreamless slumber suddenly and dramatically snapped away, leaving him feeling as though he had been plunged into frigid waters, while his insides felt almost as though they...

Shadow melted away, and warmth began to soak into his body, coaxing him back to consciousness. The dark peace and cool comfort of his sleep had at last slipped from his mind like silk sliding over skin. The winter faded away, and the little creature at last seemed to materialize from his long slumb...

Flower wrinkled his nose as he watched Sivan carefully handle the knife. He knew it was sharp. He knew sharp things were dangerous. He also knew that he wished to avoid danger. It would do no good to hurt himself, and therefore increase the effort Sivan had to put into caring for him. It was alread...

He listened intently to Sivan’s explanation. Warm now, and with a full belly, he was better able to consider the words spoken, to give thought where his brain had been foggy in the past. He had not witnessed much by the way of Sivan’s magic, given that they had only been together for a short amount...

He nodded encouragingly. Sivan could, he was quite certain, do anything to which he set his mind, though that might have been his own lack of experience showing. Sivan was capable and smart, he believed, and the sole reason he was alive to begin with. He did not know enough people to say whether or...

He did think that he might feel better when spring came, but he also supposed that most people might feel better when spring came. Winter was relentless, and he knew that he could not possibly be the only person who felt the chill. He had seen Sivan shiver, after all, had felt the chill in his skin...

There were several things still far beyond his comprehension, and things he simply did not know to begin with. Some vague part of him recalled that sprites existed, that they were beings who flitted about. There was a basic understanding of what they were, but not a full recollection of what their ...

Those words pleased him, and his entire face lit up at the praise, though he was not entirely sure why he cared whether or not he was pretty, and even more so why he ought to care about whether or not Sivan thought he was pretty. But he did care. And it was nice. Of course, he had no way of knowing...