middaeg | so now, what should i do

[ she huffs out an amused breath through her nose at the repetition of the compliment, eyes briefly on the way zelda's hair shifts in the light. ]

...I'm afraid I wouldn't know. [ byleth's brow creases just a bit at that, mouth setting into a line. maybe it's just determination as they work at the flower's roots. still, she understands the metaphor well enough, nodding. ] Someone said something to me once about... flowers that thrive, despite their environment. I can't help thinking of that now.

[ She stills for a moment, allowing for the roots to break free from the Earth. It is hard, dirty work, but rewarding. Swiping at her forehead, Zelda leaks a streak of deep brown dirt across her face, and smiles. ]

Indeed, such plants exist.

[ The lily is left to join the rest in the woven basket, treated as delicately as one might treat a newborn. In some way, if their metaphor is true, then it is. ] There is a beautiful flower in my homeland of Hyrule. The silent princess. Hardy, it grows in the wild and thrives there, away from the bustle of the city and self-sufficient as a result. The herbalists and florists under the royal family's observation tried in vain to grow it within the walls of the castle. Simulated environments do not hold them well— they can only live out in the wild, free of that which robs it of it's ability to grow.

[ She pauses, looking askance, into the forest that dwells north of the wall. ]

Fascinating, isn't it? Nature has it's way of knowing what is best for itself, in the end.

[ something troubled crosses byleth's face at that, but she can't quite account for why she finds it an uneasy concept. still, she mulls it over. (she feels the slightly ridiculous urge to offer zelda a handkerchief, which she forces down.) byleth debates for a moment before removing her vambraces and setting them aside, rolling up her sleeves to the elbows to show an array of scars. there's less weight to deal with, this way. she begins working at another flower. ]

It is. [ fascinating, she means. in a strange way, the inverse of the metaphor... she thinks of what she knows of her mother. frail, guarded, near-emotionless, contained to the monastery's walls (in part) because she couldn't handle the strain of the outside world. another creation of the dragon wreathed in white lilies, who didn't dare to let her experiment out of her sight. ]

There's something... beautiful about that, I think. I've never had much knowledge of wildflowers, only those I grew in the Monastery's greenhouse... I'd never imagined the roots might go so deep, in the wild. [ another flower in the basket. ] It's odd to consider. I've grown many lilies, but... until I saw these, I think that I'd grown to hate them.

[ Making note of the scars, she begins work on another set of lilies. Briefly, she considers what sort of training this woman must have taken in order to gain such an array, and as she works, she takes in the sight of her own arms. Thin and covered by her sky blue traveling garb, she knows they lack such marks. ]

I envy such flowers. [ She says with a smile. Zelda smiles with all the warmth in her heart right now, picturing such a life, and that is only about half a bowl's worth. ] Each have their own needs, but to be a tame, indoor sort of breed has it's advantages. They're easier to grow, as well. One would only see the silent princess a few times out in the wild, for it was rarer than you may have expected. I did hear that they had recently become more common.

[ "See" is more truthful, here. ]

May I ask what it was you hated about them? Lilies.

[ A daring move on her part, showing interest in Byleth's words. Still, she knows from experience what projection is. ]

[ she takes that in. and... it's a fair question. she considers how best to answer. ]

I suppose it's more by association. [ byleth can't quite manage a smile, right now, and focuses on extracting another flower. ] There was a creature who pretended to be something other than what she was, and all suffered for it. The greenhouse at the monastery always had a ready supply of white lilies because she was so fond of them, wearing them in her hair daily. As I grew to see what the Archbishop truly was...

[ she lets out a breath. ]

I began to wonder if the lilies might hide such ugliness in themselves, too.

[ She listens, her motions halting as she takes in Byleth's words. ]

One cannot claim to know the answers behind another person when they have not met that person. [ Zelda uproots a cattail weed, taking care to remove the tail itself from the plant. The substance that begins to pool from it in thick dribbles is caught in an open jar. For a time, that is all Zelda says, working on the collection of the plant. ]

I believe one's favorite flower says much about them, however. Humility and devotion, that is what you would presume a lily in a bouquet would mean. [ Briefly, Zelda wonders who or what it was that this creature who took the form of a woman was devoted to. ]

[ she nods at that, thinking. the initial response is a fair point. she works in companionable silence until zelda speaks up again, apparently content to leave it there. ]

Humility... [ she shakes her head at that, a flat chuckle escaping her lips. ] Seiros presented that image, at first. The ageless monster who acted like the pious woman of peace. As for devotion... she was devoted to her mother, in her way. [ the corner of her mouth twists, as she carefully extracts an odd fern by its rhizome, before moving onto a patch of weeds. ] I have the scars to remind me of that.

[ Curiosity is her middle name. For all the subtlety she manages in most situations, Zelda can never resist asking a question, no matter how ill advised her mind may tell her it is. ]

The ones on your arms?

[ She looks to Byleth, eyes wide and curious, before she snaps her head back to her work. ]

I apologize.

[ that actually gets byleth to laugh a bit, caught off-guard, looking back to zelda. ]

Don't apologize. But no. [ she frowns, thoughtfully, looking at the old, long-faded burns and cuts on her arms. ] Well... possibly some of them. I didn't get through our war against her completely unmarked. But that's not what I mean. [ she gestures to her chest with one hand. ]

After I was born... my chest was cut open, and her mother's stone heart was connected to my own.

[ Hello ]

Byleth, I...

[ Her hands halt and she slowly recognizes that she has not said anything for several seconds as she considers this information that she has been offered. She processes it, though aspects of it are lost to her. Perhaps if she imagines a heart stone as a soul... ]

I know not what a heart stone is. All the same.

[ She thinks she might be understanding something, here. ]

I offer my condolences.

[ For the chest opening. Yikes. ]

A heart made of stone.

[ as if that... explains anything. byleth just... keeps digging. she feels like if she doesn't keep her hands busy, this might get considerably harder. she tries to force a placid mask over her expression, blue eyes looking vacantly down towards her task. still, her tone doesn't harden, or deaden, as she speaks to her. zelda seems... kind, exceedingly so, and she doesn't wish her to see what remains of the ashen demon. ]

Thank you, Zelda. But that's not necessary. It's undone, in any case.

[ Were Zelda to know of such concerns, she might comment that she has seen the worst people have to offer, or confronted the darkest parts of a loved one and found them still worth everything.

As it is, she takes that to be as literal and metaphorical as possible. A heart made of stone, one that cannot beat or feel love. She wonders what that means for Byleth. ]

I had not known my mother much myself. [ She hums thoughtfully. ] What I know of her was from stories, things other people were kind enough to tell me. [ Her father did not always dwell in the past, though she knows he loved her mother in some form. ]

Tell me about your's.

[ byleth can relate to that... her brows knit a bit. ]

I never knew mine, either... I'm told she died in childbirth. [ there's something faintly skeptical to how she says it, like she thinks it was probably more complicated. ] Her name was Sitri; she was a nun of the Church. I suspect Seiros placed the same stone in her chest... another attempt to bring her mother back. Likely not the first. [ she shakes her head. ] I'm told she was... frail, struggled with emotion, and never left the monastery's walls. Apparently, my father was one of the few things that could make her smile.

[ she's just not gonna talk about that whole mess in abyss— ]

What of yours, Zelda?

so now, what should i do

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