#——— ⟢ 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒚 】₊ diamant.

[nelithic]

He heard, through some whisper, that it was her birthday today.

For as much as Diamant failed to remember his own, the special days of family and friends were always firmly imprinted in his mind. And though he isn't sure if Nel would consider him a friend, they had enough encounters—enough ordeals endured and shared together—that he would feel remiss not addressing the day at all.

And so he approaches her with a modest bouquet of white cosmos: flowers representative of peace, if his readings had been correct. He knew that she was a Fell Dragon, and though he didn't know much about the specifics of her upbringing, if Lady Veyle's was any indication, it had to have been far from pleasant.

A tool, molded for the sake of war... and yet, it didn't always have to be that way.

"Good day, Lady Nel. I heard it was your birthday, so..." Diamant offers her the bouquet not long after he spots and approaches her, "Here, with my sincerest regards. I do hope these are to your liking. Though..." A faint chuckle, as he remembers her spiced orange peels. (And the ravages it brought upon his throat.) "Perhaps I should have opted for something with a bit more kick, instead?"

among human customs, she recalls it is in some way meaningful for a man to approach another individual with flowers. to this end, when she first hears her name and turns to behold a sprawling bouquet in the king of brodia's arms before a word of explanation is offered, her initial reaction is shock.

and then realization. ( and some embarrassment. )

she sheds it all easily, a rare boon of her natural derth of expression that all that makes it onto her face of it is a brief downturn of her gaze and the faintest pinch of lips.

when her gaze turns back to him again, all is normal once more, and nel moves forward to receive her third assortment of flowers of the day. it seems she will need to start finding more places for them than her quarters — ill-suited for the care of living things — and repopulating the monastery greenhouse. " . . . this is quite a bouquet. it has been many years since i have seen such pure white flowers. thank you, little king."

"though i wonder how you all are hearing of this. you are not the first to approach me, and with flowers, no less. i find it difficult to imagine that this was planned . . . " with diamant and the divine dragon alone, she could reasonably suspect collusion. but poe seemed an unlikely third conspirator. "did rafal tell you?" it sounds equally unlikely the moment she speaks it aloud; the vision of her proud twin approaching others unprompted to inform them of an unrelated surprise is hard to conjure. the hand that had risen thoughtfully to her lips falls away as she eventually dismisses the skepticism. "no matter."

one final aside however, meeting his eyes as she shifts the bundle more firmly into her arms: "but perhaps you misunderstood my intentions. i had never meant to eat these flowers. there is no need for spiced ones."

[nelithic]

[ Water ]

"Galas can be exhausting, can't they?"

A flute of water is offered when Diamant first approaches Nel, a sympathetic smile on his lips. From the few glimpses he'd gotten of her throughout the event, it seemed Nel was almost always engaged in conversation with someone. A natural occurrence at a party, though he never took the Fell Dragon as much of a socializer.

To suddenly have to converse so much despite that... from personal experience, he knew how tiring it could be.

"No matter how many times I attend one, I can never quite grow accustomed to all the attention I get." He sips his own glass of water. "A nice refreshment is a good way to cool down, ease the vocal cords."

SHE HAS ONLY FOUND A MOMENT OF RESPITE between the gardens, and the girl yuzu, and prince alcryst, settling herself into the soft plush of a chaise fortunately tucked in one of the more out-of-the-way corners of the ball room. here, the music is distant, quieter, and there appears to be an understood need for solace shared by its few inhabitants — a few girls resting their feet in muted conversation nearby ; another adjusting her headpiece by the window ; a lone boy reading a book.

only when eyes at last thankfully shut does she feel the faint stinging behind their lids, exerted by the lights and the movement and chatter.

but it's not long before a deeper voice bids them open again.

landing first on a clear flute of water, gaze then lifts to the man who extends it. red hair and warm eyes bid her shoulders to relax, losing their readiness to engage yet another impromptu conversation. though she supposes this still counted as one, she could afford to see it as less demanding. "so you were watching." one hand accepts the water with a sigh, bringing it gratefully to her lips and letting its crystalline wash soothe a scratch in the back of her throat as encouraged.

"i am. . . rather less accustomed to receiving such ' attention '," she continues with a faint headshake. brodia's king drawing in one after another was to be expected ; herself. . . she is better acquainted, and more comfortable, with being granted a wide berth. another sip, and she turns to look up ; one might imagine even a touch of amusement to her corner of her eye. "perhaps you might stand to the right a step, and block me from the view of the ballroom a while. i believe you would make a fitting curtain."