⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ( masaomi. ) ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀

fingertips ghost over the petals of delicate ivory petals, and she plucks several heads from the thicket, gathering the acceptable chamomile into a pale palm.

don’t you get it? you want to make everyone smile, right? but you’re so sad now you’re almost in tears.

peaceful moon. i consist only of bones.

cerr.⠀ the urge i have to make shiori mother everyone.

music swells, the symphony climbing, and she moves through the corridors, fingertips dragging along the walls, feeling the quiver and shake. doors are flung open, windows opened, every room she leaves drenched in sunlight and melodies.

🧺🌿 in some native languages, the term for plants translates to "those who take care of us".

something rooted in her heart is torn up, dirt scattering, at the sight of her beloved greenhouse. the windows are cracked, ivy trailing up the metal struts, boxes once carefully nailed with strong wood sagging into the path with the weight of barely maintained plants.

she hates the feel of anything constricting, her dress loose but elegant, and the windows opened no matter how the temperature dips. standing before the breeze, she sips at her tea, gold eyes fixed on the grounds.

bundled in a heavy knit cardigan, she's stepping out, cradling a mug of tea close.

fingertips burning from the switch from the cold outdoors to the warm interior of the coffee shop, she recognises the girl from one of seijuurou’s pictures. with that in mind, she purchases a slice of cake along with her latte, placing it down beside momoi with a serene smile.

as long as i'm here， no one can hurt you.