Work Text:
The Silver Garden held many secrets — whispers that were buried under century years old of dirt, or the wilting petals of flowers. Yet deep within the garden, a small comfort could be found, tucked away beneath verdant vines — a place where a silver tree was seen to grow. Those who sat beneath its shade is known to receive comfort from the very essence of the tree itself — and too the view one might beheld by laying under such tree.
A place such as this is certainly a place to take splendor in, especially for a scholar whose mind will wander endlessly, pondering of her past mistakes and or the path to redeem herself of such mistakes. White Lily Cookie continued to lay against the silver bark of the willow tree — taking in the sight of flora that she beheld. Her hands were idle as she held a water colour pigment. She went out to relax — to finally let her mind take a break from all those exhilarating wonders she found herself in — by painting what ever she her eyes could beheld. Lo and behold, nothing came to mind as her hands idly dipped the paintbrush into the waters once more. It was strange — truly — as it was rare to receive a day uninterrupted with terror…
And far in the distance, a knight in obsidian dark armour was seen to thread along the path — shortening the distance between where he stood and the femme that laid idly under the silver willow tree. It was his duty to protect her — to protect the faint hope of cookie kind — and of course, he'll know where to seek for her presence. A restless soul she is who'll wander without any one knowing… But through his observation, he'd seem to notice where one could find her. Either walking down near the edges of the lake, or here laying under the willow tree. Reminiscing? Perchance. He has yet to know unless he asked.
"My lady, is something troubling you?" Silent Salt Cookie asked as he finally reached the shade of the willow tree, watching her idly dip the paintbrush — swirling it inside the still clean water.
His voice woke her up from a trance she did not knew she was in, turning her head up and offering him a small smile, "No, nothing is troubling me… it's just" she paused as she looked at the empty parchment, her fingers tapping lightly on it. "It seems like I have done everything I can do today, and I am feeling…"
"Bored?" he then asked, which he received a nod in response.
"Indeed" her gaze fell to the standing knight, shuffling away slightly, creating a small space — an invitation of some sort for him to take a seat beside her. And to both of their delights he has decided to accept in such offer. His armour soon sank into the verdant grass below them, joining her in watching the flora sway in the wind. It was a comfortable sight, truly, a peaceful one too.
"Perhaps it is time to finally rest that wandering mind of yours" he stated simply as he took notice of a blooming bluebell near the roots of the willow tree — he couldn't help himself but let his hand reach out towards it.
"Ironic the word 'rest' came out of your lips" White Lily Cookie giggled — referring to his restless physical body, how he always itches to train, to sharpen his skill.
"That is … different" he huffed out as he plucked the bluebell, twirling it in his hands
"Sure…" she hummed as she then turned to look at him, noticing the bluebell he held between his hands… Perhaps she could start by something simple. Her hands soon found the wet brush once more, bringing it out of the water for it to come in contact with the water colour pigment right beside her. A violet blue is what she chose, as she swirled the brush within the pigment.
Silent Salt Cookie watches her creation in silent fascination — certainly he too has the ability to sketch, but that was indeed a whole thing different from painting. To bring colour onto a bland and monotonous paper. He watches as the violet blue touches the parchment paper, each stroke calculated and precise, repeating itself to create a darker hue. Certainly a marvel on how the colour pigments could create a deeper colour by stacking it upon each other, and with each repeating stroke — the patterns of a bluebell could be seen. The silence that hung between them was peaceful, he couldn't help himself but let his armour sink into the bark behind him, watching her visage scrunch and twist slightly as she tried to make sure each stroke of brush was perfect… His sword soon was now laid upon his side, as his hands stayed idle — wishing to reach out and bury his fingers in her hair, or to simply continue twist the bluebells in his hands. He chose to rest his hands on his sides, creating a space — a silent invitation for her to lay on him.
"Finished." she hummed in delight as she is finally satisfied with the small painting she made, she turned to look at him and saw how he has already succumbed to the calming atmosphere that they both beheld… The way his side was open, she couldn't help herself but let her gaze soften — the stoic knight finally found calmness after centuries or perhaps millennia where he was forced to carry a burden where he thought only he could both shoulder and burden. His side still had space for her very essence — indeed it was a silent invitation for her to take, and she fully realized that as she shuffled closer towards him, now laying her head on his shoulder as she brought the picture up.
Beneath the helmet, one of his eyes were opened, to see the final product of her creation, "Finished painting?" he asked, his hands now resting comfortably against her dough as she curled up into him.
"Indeed I have" she hummed in delight, turning the picture towards him. "It's nothing much, but at least something was made" she lightly huffed as she looked up at him — his helmet still concealed his face to her dismay, yet all is well as she still could press her lips against his cheek — a quick peck to the laying knight. His plumes flickered slightly at the affection, his grip unconsciously tightening as he closed his eyes…
Painting should not be exhausting, she told herself, yet she couldn't help herself but yawn. Perhaps it wasn't the painting itself that made her feel exhausted — maybe the burden she too has also carried on her own.
Noticing his other half's exhaustion, "Rest … We are safe" he murmured, his hands squeezing her dough in silent reassurance..
White Lily Cookie smiled at his reassurance, "Very well, I trust you.." she hummed as she laid her head on his chest — feeling how his chest raise steadily, hearing his heart beat, and of course how could she ignore such sight? The Souljam of Silence once dark, now had a faint glimmer of verdant emerald within it.
Feeling satisfied with the weight his dough beheld, his body sank deeper into the bed of grass — as he too joined her in a small slumber under the shade of the willow tree. And in their slumber, a periwinkle butterfly is seen to join these two lovers — landing atop the bluebell painting that White Lily Cookie finished painted.