The garden was a riot of color, with blooms in every shade imaginable swaying gently in the breeze. Lyric hummed as she worked, her magic flowing through her fingertips and into the plants around her. Vines unfurled like ribbons, buds opened with delicate sighs, and the air filled with the scent of fresh blossoms.
One of the many cats, a fluffy brown Calinic named Mango, was lazily winding through the flower beds, pausing every now and then to bat at a butterfly or roll in the warm patches of sunlight.
Mango, you’re a terrible helper, Lyric teased, crouching down to scratch the cat behind the ears. Honestly, I do all the work, and you take all the credit. Typical cat behavior! She giggled, shaking her head as Mango purred contentedly.
She stood up, brushing soil from her hands and turning back to the blooms she was coaxing into full, vibrant life. But you know, Mango, I think we’ve outdone ourselves this time. The lavender is practically glowing! It’s like a little slice of sunshine right here in the garden!
It wasn’t until she turned, still chattering to Mango, that she noticed she wasn’t alone. She froze for a moment, her wide eyes going even wider as she spotted someone standing at the edge of the garden.
Oh! Hello there! she exclaimed, quickly recovering from her surprise. I didn’t see you come in—guess I was too busy giving Mango a pep talk. Welcome to our little patch of paradise! What brings you to the garden today?
Her smile was warm and inviting, her excitement palpable as she brushed a stray flower petal from her hair. For Lyric, every unexpected visitor was a potential friend, and the garden always had room for one more.
Get out of the Estate, take some sunshine, see the garden.
Ophelia still didn't feel like getting out of her bed, as she ruefully watched the sunlight filter in through the window, wondering if it would rain to match the melancholy that was pervading her soul with a sadness that couldn't quite be called sadness, nor be named anything but. A great maw, vast emptiness that gripped her and refused to let go. But Luce would scold her, for being dramatic, and tell her she needed to keep up her studies and research. Rene would poke fun and tell her she should rise from the bed and at least find new rooms to sulk about in.
She was about to close her eyes to the world again, and allow herself to not move from the bed, for another day, when she felt the tug of the covers at her toes, and a curious call. No Isenam, I don't want to play this morning. She pulled the covers back up over her face and tried to hide from the animal she had befriended and come to love, before she felt the edge of the bed dip enough to roll her to the floor, the griffon having stepped on the edge -- a new trick he had learned made her leave the bed -- a tumble to be sure, and enough of one to make her hip hurt as she came to rest at the feet of the large beast, before she felt the cold beak pressed into the side of her neck and a happy sound leave the beast. Fine, fine. I will rise, and I will do the garden, and you can follow along, go sun on the rocks near the port, maybe catch some fish, as long as you don't get caught and you don't scare anyone. We don't want our host trying to say you're too dangerous to have around. Lia fussed a little, as she moved her snarled hair back from her face. Trust an animal to make her take care of herself when all she wanted to do was sleep and not dream about ... anything.
~*~
A little while later, after her hair had been tamed back into a braid, and she had been bathed and dressed, she had seen to it to take herself to Tiberus' gardens, knowing that while that had not been the garden intended that her new friend and potentially future mentor probably would not be upset with her coming to see his gardens for the day. It got her out of doors, into the sunshine, and it had her dressed and bathed -- her hair was even up in a braid that hug the crown of her head, laced through with a black ribbon of mourning, to match the plain black shift dress she wore for the day. She missed her greens and blues that felt more appropriate, but the pain of loss was still too fresh, to new to her, to allow herself the joy of color yet. Maybe soon.
Isenam had vanished before the estate, probably down to the shore to hunt for a little bit, before he would come back and sun himself with a full belly, and when she had finally been permitted inside enough so that she had started along the walk way that she had memorized on her last visit, when she was met with a woman that..
Ophelia stopped, and stared, mouth slightly agape and mind racing. Red hair, creamy skin, the same faint trace of Orlesian in the voice, was this the lady of the House or the gardener that Tiberus had mentioned in the past, or were they one in the same? Realizing she had froze for too long, had been silent past what was an acceptable amount of time. Ahh, yes, Ophelia Jolfy, formerly of Orlais University.. I. I'm not really sure why I'm here today, only that I needed the plants to feel less empty. Is this your garden? I mean, are you the one that takes care of all of them? Plans out their neat little rows and beds? I.. I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced, I didn't really know where I was going until I was, Ophelia paused, one hand coming to rub along the length of her arm between shoulder and elbow, unsure of herself suddenly. She shouldn't have come unannounced, shouldn't have just let her whims take her -- but there she was. Until I was here.
Lyric’s eyes lit up, her face brightening with such enthusiasm that it was almost as if the garden itself leaned in closer to hear the conversation. She clasped her hands together, beaming at Ophelia with the kind of warmth that made the garden feel even more alive.
Oh, welcome, welcome! she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her toes. I’m so glad you found your way here, Ophelia! It’s fate, or serendipity, or maybe just the garden calling you! Either way, you’re here now, and that’s what matters.
Lyric’s gaze softened as she noticed Ophelia’s fidgeting and the black ribbon laced through her braid. There was a weight about the visitor, a shadow of something heavy and difficult, but Lyric wasn’t one to let shadows linger where light could shine.
And yes! This is *our* garden—well, technically it belongs to the estate, but I’m the lucky one who gets to take care of it. And by ‘take care,’ I mean I talk to the plants, sing to them sometimes, and occasionally convince them not to grow too wild. They don’t always listen, she added with a conspiratorial wink, but I like to think we’re a good team.
She took a small step closer, tilting her head as she studied Ophelia with curiosity and kindness.
You know, you’re not the first person to find themselves here without quite knowing why. Gardens have a way of pulling people in when they need it most. It’s like… they just *know* when someone needs a bit of peace or a splash of color to brighten up their day. Lyric glanced around at the riot of blooms swaying in the breeze, as if to include the plants in the conversation.
Her voice softened, taking on a more thoughtful tone.
And plants are good listeners, you know. Better than most people. They don’t judge, or talk back, or ask you a million questions you don’t know how to answer. They just… *are.* Steady, grounded, alive.
Lyric reached out to gently brush her fingers over a cluster of lavender, her touch light and reverent. The flowers seemed to respond, leaning slightly toward her hand as if drawn to her energy.
So, Ophelia, she said, turning back with a small, encouraging smile, if you want to wander, or sit, or just breathe for a little while, you’re more than welcome. This is a safe place. And if you feel like talking, I’ll be right here. Mango too, she added, nodding toward the fluffy cat now sprawled out in the sun, completely uninterested in their exchange.
I've been to the gardens before, Master Umbra is .. friends with the man I am staying with, these gardens were lovely when I last visited as well. There was a tea plantation too, I believe. The other woman sounded like her, and she felt herself slipping further into the Orlesian accent as they continued to talk. I'm a botanist, or I was. I still am, I think? Does.. nevermind, I'm not making a lot of sense today, and plants don't really need me to be making sense that well.
Mango looked peaceful, so she didn't really want to bother the animal, and she knew soon enough Ise would show up and maybe wreck the peace for the moment, so she wanted to take the time to enjoy the quiet. Lavender is good for cooking and in tea, little short bread cookies with the lavender buds, and then adding it to a black tea is very delicious. This, this was something she could talk about easily enough, it wasn't what was wrong. I miss my garden, and the garden where I'm staying right now isn't as well developed as this one, this one has older trees, old growth plants that I can tell have had cuttings taken off them and grown into new plants. She gently went to a seat there, near Mango, looking down at the little cat, missing the ones that she had met at the Archon's palace back in the spring.
I used to talk to my plants at the gardens in Orlais University, I planted most of them as I worked on my research, I've been working on methods of being able to use specific doses for people, instead of one side fits all potions. It's wasteful in some cases, and then sometimes it's not enough for a bigger person, or a person who works a lot, it metabolizes through their system faster. I don't like the idea of people experiencing pain, or being over-drugged. She was being a chatter box again, but she tended to talk too much when she was nervous, or sad, or excited.. okay, maybe she just liked to talk a lot.
Is there a specific pattern to how you plant, I noticed some are planted with symbiotic plants and some are not, are you the one changing them to the more symbiotic methods?
Lyric’s eyes sparkled as she listened to Ophelia’s words, her delight evident in every shift of her expression. She perched lightly on a stone bench nearby, folding her legs beneath her like a bird settling into its nest.
Oh, a botanist! she said, practically glowing with excitement. That’s wonderful! It’s like we’re kindred spirits. You work with plants to help people, and I… well, I just try to keep them happy, and they help me in return. Her voice took on a dreamy lilt, her gaze drifting momentarily to the swaying flowers around them.
She clapped her hands together at Ophelia’s mention of lavender cookies and tea. Lavender cookies! Now, that sounds like magic I can taste. I’ve never tried making them myself, but I’d love to learn. You’ll have to show me sometime—or at least tell me all the secrets! She grinned, leaning forward as if ready to soak up every detail.
When Ophelia spoke of her research, Lyric’s expression softened with admiration and curiosity. That’s incredible work you’re doing, Ophelia. It sounds like you’re helping plants help people in a whole new way. And what a beautiful thought—plants healing us, but in just the right amounts. Like they’re tailoring their gifts to each person.
She gestured toward the garden beds with a sweep of her hand, the flowers swaying in a breeze that seemed to follow her motion. As for the planting patterns… I’d love to say it’s all part of some grand master plan, but honestly? It’s a little bit of instinct, a little bit of advice from books, and a *lot* of listening to what the plants tell me. Sometimes, they seem to enjoy the company of certain neighbors. Other times, they get a bit grumpy if I plant them too close to someone they don’t like. She chuckled, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear.
The symbiotic pairings are something I’ve been experimenting with more recently, though. It’s fascinating, isn’t it? How plants can support each other, like friends helping one another out. I like to think of it as matchmaking for flowers. Her voice dropped to a playful whisper. And between you and me, they’re surprisingly picky about who they want to grow next to!
Lyric leaned forward, her gaze intent and sincere. I’d love to hear more about your gardens back at the university, and about the plants you’re working with now. Maybe you can help me find ways to make this garden even better. And… Her voice softened, a gentle warmth weaving through her words. If you ever want to bring a little piece of your old garden here, we could plant something together. Something that reminds you of home, or of something you love. Plants are like memories—they can carry pieces of our hearts wherever they grow.
She smiled, her head tilting slightly as Mango stretched luxuriously in the sunlight, the cat’s serenity a quiet counterpoint to the liveliness of their conversation. What do you think, Mango? Should we let Ophelia teach us a thing or two about plants?
The cat, predictably, didn’t respond—at least, not in words. But his slow, satisfied blink seemed as good a “yes” as any.
Kindred spirits, I like that, I feel that you are right in that, Lia wrapped her arms around her middle a little tighter, giving herself the hug she needed. Oh the cookies are easy as can be, just butter, flower, sugar, and lavender buds freshly harvested from the garden and crushed in the sugar. I know some people put dried buds in, for color and a little pop of extra flavor, but I find crushing fresh buds in the sugar and then creaming the sugar into the butter, and then adding a bit of honey.. She trailed off, and realized she had talked more than she had in several days, listening to Lyric closely, and watching the breeze and movement of the flowers -- Lyric must have some sort of magic with the plants, it would make sense.
Rightly so, I know that common sense tells us not to plant mint next to lavender, but I do so love to have some quite near it so that honey from the bees that visit the lavender have a tangy honey, and rosemary, rosemary is good to plant next to it, they both bloom around the same time and can get quite bushy and lovely. And roses.. Lia closed her eyes and started mapping the garden in her mind, how she had imagined, so many times in the past, what she would eventually do to Malachai's garden if he let her, So many roses, there are some varieties that do quite well with the same water requirements as lavender. See I have a very keen fixation on the plant, with it's little purple buds. One could even think it's my favorite, and they'd be right, but it's more about the honey that bees make off it. There are several different flowers to plant all together in the same area as a hive to produce some marvelous tasting honey, which compliments the tea, and then the cookies, and, oh.. tea would be quite good about now, don't you think?
Lyric's voice, and the cat, the call of Isenam from above, letting her know the griffon was nearby, all of it did good for her soul, to ease her down into a sense of peace that she hadn't really had at all since the world had gone black for her. I can get it, just point me in a direction and I can fetch it, I used to be kitchen help a long time ago, and sometimes I miss the simplicity of.. Not having to think, she almost said, but instead let a small smile cross her features. Brewing a cup of tea, do you have a favorite?
Lyric gasped as if Ophelia had just suggested the most delightful and revolutionary idea in the history of ideas.
Tea! Oh, that is *exactly* what we need right now! It’s like you plucked the thought straight from the garden air! She clapped her hands together, eyes sparkling. And the way you talk about honey and lavender—Ophelia, I think you might be a flower spirit in disguise. If I start seeing bees following you around like little devoted courtiers, I won’t even be surprised!
She spun on her heel, already half-skipping toward a winding pathway that led deeper into the garden.
Come, come! I know just the place! There’s a little nook where I like to keep the tea things, and—oh!—I have some honey from the estate hives. Not lavender honey, unfortunately, but the bees have been busy with the orange blossoms and clover, so it’s still lovely and sweet.
Lyric turned back, bouncing on her toes like she could barely contain her excitement. As for my favorite tea—oh, that’s like asking me to pick a favorite star! But if I *must* choose, I do love a floral blend. Something with jasmine or chamomile, maybe a hint of citrus! Or—oh!—we could mix something special! A garden blend, just for today.
She paused, tilting her head as if listening to the whispering flowers.
And I do believe the garden agrees with this plan.
Mango yawned luxuriously, completely indifferent to their grand tea mission. Lyric grinned, taking Ophelia’s hand for just a brief moment, giving it a light, warm squeeze before releasing it.
Come along, flower spirit! Let’s make some magic in a teacup.
