THE END OF INFINITY WITH YOU / power discovery, open

Hazel easily associated people with different things; it helped her define them and their personality. For instance, when she saw Suite, she thought of bedtime stories and mothers taking their children's place in battle to keep them from getting hurt. She also thought of sea glass and mint. When she saw Bastille, she thought of kids trying to figure out which path to take in life, campfires, skateboards, dry humor, and pine forests. When she saw Margy, she thought of flowers, royalty, glittering crowns, secrets, and the struggles of life that shaped people.

So it wasn't really an odd thing to see Margy pacing in her garden with roses popping up everywhere. In fact, it was satisfactory, in a way. Hazel wanted to make a flower crown (after figuring out how to make one) out of roses for her, but realized that Margy might look down on that.

"It's nice to see more roses in your garden again, Margy." Hazel purred. She knew Bastille had grown some in apology for burning most of them, but now they were everywhere, and the garden just radiated Margaery. It was nice to see the chocolate point smile again; it lifted Hazel's spirit just a bit, made her aura glow just a little more. God knew Margy deserved something like this.

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Bastille wasn't quite feeling as in tune with the Earth that morning. Or with the sky, for that matter. Or the air. Or -- well, anything defined by the elements, frankly. He'd woken up to a surge of energy, chasing the tail-end of some past memory, and ended up plunged into darkness as the electricity in his room failed. After a cursory check, it seemed that only the room immediately next to his had been hit as well, but he'd been unable to coax the power to come back. After 10 minutes he'd given up and assigned it to be a problem for later.

Things only seemed to get worse from there.

By now, he was used to seeing cracks splinter under his paws when he stepped out of the Observatory. It seemed that within the structure, the metal and carpeted floors were safe from his destructive path -- with the exception, of course, for the lines imbedded in Hazel's floor. Outside, though? It seemed that the cracks that spread out where he walked were a permanent fixture for the time being, the spindly lines shooting out the second he made contact with the Earth. They seemed relatively minor at this point, not quite as pronounced as they were when he wavered on the brink of his control, which was... better, he supposed.

What he was not used to was being followed around by his own personal raincloud. Sure, sometimes he accidentally produced miniature versions of nature -- tornados, thunder storms, clumps of mist, and so forth -- but usually he could get rid of them relatively quickly. He'd patrolled the entire morning, trained, and gone hunting already, and this damned thing was still following him.

Bastille had elected to ignore it, and as he joined them he gave it absolutely no attention. It wasn't raining at the moment, as it had been early -- just swirly darkly behind him, like an over eager fucking puppy. Octavia had been intrigued by it for a while before she got bored and went to find something else to do. Unfortunately, Bast didn't have that same liberty.

He eyed the array of roses with some interest, and drawled idly, "Huh. Even your force-grown ones look nicer than mine. Maybe you do just have a better touch for flowers than me." That seemed to confirm his hypothesis, at these -- he'd wondered if it was the powers or if it was just him that made his roses less vibrant than Margy's.

[color=#b14767] ❁ ❁ ❁

As Hazel arrived and subsequently commented on the state of her garden, Margaery paused in her exuberant prance (which she had begun again after growing bored with sitting) to exuberantly beam - yes, she was beaming - at her. Happiness had so nimbly evaded the lithe chocolate point before this moment and yet, somehow, someway, she had still managed to ensnare it. A part of her feared that it was all temporary and would fade all too soon, but the part of her that was so actively living in this pure and bright moment relished in the fact that she once more felt bliss course through her veins. It had been too long, she decided, and she deserved this.

[color=#b14767]"Aren't they lovely?" She inquired pleasantly, gaze falling to the ground to watch a fresh bloom poke its way through the earth and open before her - a crimson red that made that smile stretch even wider. [color=#b14767]"While I'm not familiar with power malfunctions, this one is an old friend of mine. It seems as if these roses will be blooming wherever I go now," Margaery continued with a small nod, tracing a circle into the ground with her forepaw and watching, in amazement, as a few roses sprouted in result.

Suiteheart's arrival earned a bit of an excited squeal of delight from Margaery and the starstruck guardian, undeniably eager, channeled her energy into making another type of flower grow- geraniums. They were her wife's favorite and thus a must. Though, she admittedly was surprised that the power cooperated with her enough to grow such. Often times, it was like pulling teeth to get anything but her signature roses to sprout. [color=#b14767]"Things are getting better," Margy observed, [color=#b14767]"I'm healing."

The contemplative expression that embraced her face for merely a second was once more replaced by happiness as Bastillepaw arrived. [color=#b14767]"Those roses will infinitely mean more to me," She confessed, stealing a glance at the ones he had planted following the initial destruction of her garden. He had been so thoughtful and considerate to do that and Margaery had been taken aback. No matter how big and beautiful the blooms of her own roses were, she'd never look at them with the same appreciative gaze that she did Bast's. [color=#b14767]"Thank you... again... That gesture meant more than I could ever convey."