Sending You Forget-Me-Nots (short story)
Muted conversations filled the air of Cypress Walk, and raised calls for family members to hurry inside for supper were sent up like multi-toned bells up and down the lane. A dark-haired woman wandered down the lane chewing a green apple, flicking her fingers at the street lights. Fire flew from her hand to spark brightly within each raised lantern, illuminating the curved swan feather embroidered on the lapel of her blue jacket as she continued along her way.
Rays of brilliant light bloomed from between the cracks of the shutters of Yukito's home, causing the little cottage to glow as the sun sleepily slipped below the horizon. Within, the sylph propped his chin on his hand and stared at an old manuscript through a lens. A soft rustle at his side caused his head to jerk up, and he blinked as a cup of tea was held just beneath his nose. Sighing softly, he yawned and exchanged the tea for the looking lens, placing the item delicately within the cradling vines of the forest spirit at his side.
The slightly bitter taste brought to mind deep forest paths, and soft patches of loamy soil. A smile curved his lips as he gazed at the dour-looking forest spirit at his side. He'd told Ifanna the tale of Forget-Me-Nots, but not exactly how his mother had explained the old story. He had been very small when they had almost ceremoniously planted the little flowers together, and she has told him of two people who had been deeply in love, but who been parted by a tragic sense of duty when the Nanrithowan had been invoked to seal Yuriqen away from the world. She said that the Sylvans of Yuriqen had loved the flowers as a way to say that they would return to a friend or a loved one, and gift them as a reminder to keep them in their thoughts. The Lassaran planted the blue blooms as a symbol of acceptance of the inevitable, and of steadfast devotion in the face of loss.
A sudden dimming of the light automatically had Yukito's hand moving in a broad circle. The spirit at his side rustled at the invocation, seeming almost content in the working of his magic. Immediately the room was brightly illuminated, and the print of the books on his table stood out in sharp relief. Sighing softly, he set his tea aside and went back to his work, squinting at the palimpsest in front of himself to try to decipher the underwriting and copy it down.
Hours later, as the sun brightened the sky to a rosy in the oncoming dawn, Yukito barely noticed as the spirit slipped the quill from his fingers before it could mar all of his evening's efforts. The light in the room softened to near-darkness as faint traces of sunlight caressed the cherrywood floors through the cracks of the shutters. People could be heard bustling about on the lane, their muffled voices faint as they said 'Good Morning' to one another.
A soft blue blanket settled over the sylph's shoulders, and a tendril of vines brushed his forehead before the forest spirit faded away in a dry rustle of leaves. Secure in being loved and cared for, Yukito rested his head fully on his desk and dreamed of his family.
"Forget Me Nots"- Patrice Rushen