The fairy paid no mind to the rain, it was natural and necessary; dwelling in it as if it were a long lost friend or a part of her natural elements, coasting on soft air and powdered droplets. Her breaths were easy and flickering along the showers, floating on light filaments and radiant bliss, a touch of finery between mountains and caverns, tainted features and rapturous virtues. The honeyed, amber quality of her stare peeked along clouds and her lips curled back into a smile, wondering if the spring blossoms would reach their peak, if Tangere’s former lacerations would ache from the incoming storm, if it would’ve put out the fire coiled along her heart. Thunder rumbled and growled, and she remained still, poised and ready, ardent and eager for whatever life threw at them, restless for more endeavors, for more occupations than to stay idle, listless, and languid, bestowing gifts to ease torment, miseries, and woes. Instead of fleeing into the woods, hills, or catacombs, she remained by the silver mare’s side, pervading each and every transgression, dilemma, or flaw, with a tiny speck of beneficence, wondering if one day the whole world would be full of kindness and compassion, instead of belligerence and menace. Her ears flicked at the other mare’s words, at the glistening rays of peace and repose, simply dwelling in the reverie of tranquility – where vows didn’t break, where chaos didn’t reign, where terror wasn’t exploited. There was no treachery layered amidst their morals, no judgment cast, no die thrown; just a wondrous sort of contentment. She nearly asked Tangere about so many things, like how to mend a broken heart, how to chase after stars instead of wonder what went wrong, how to embrace the past but look forward to the future…but none of these things came out. The Songbird didn’t want to disrupt the intervals of radiance, the grandeur of the present, and simply sighed, grinning back all the while. “I believe the greenhouse will be built soon,” she said instead, allowing her gaze to settle back on the other mare, whom had been an orchestrator of the project. “I’m excited to think of all the growth we’ll have over the winter, and how many more we can help.” The maiden paused thereafter, a train of thought floating and trailing along her sentiments, before being courted and held aloft, mellifluous and curious. “I haven’t gathered any in such a long time. Would you like to come with me?”