The Red Rose Blooms in Seawater

by IHeShe

Summary:

After receiving the latest collection of Horla's poems as a gift by none other than Horla herself -even if not directly- Nymphaea decides to pay the poetess a visit, spurred on by both a suspicious and yet trustworthy person's advice and the personal need for... a break of sort.

And even more so by something else contained in the book.

The Red Rose Blooms in Seawater

The air felt a little cold. She could tell.

That was... not necessarily a problem. She could handle a bit of cold, she welcomed it even. It reminded her of the sea, in a distant and perhaps slightly twisted way. But the patients were a different matter. She had turned the heating off in that room precisely because she had no need for it, at least so long as autumn hadn't fully presented itself yet, but the sanatorium had to be kept warm for the sake of the patients. Except for Johan's room, a certain degree of coldness seemed to calm his troubled mind somewhat. She had yet to figure out why. She doubted she ever would. 'Acting director' was a resonant title, but all she truly was was a caretaker, for the sanatorium itself and for the people hospitalized there.

Right, the heating. How much money did they have to spare for it? The number had to be written somewhere there. With a composure almost resembling slugginesh, Nymphaea pushed herself up from her chair and started flipping through the stacks of unclipped papers, looking for the last accounting records. Finding it didn't take long, but still longer than it should've.

Francis was more orderly than that.

There is little left this month too.

Heating. Lighting. Food. Water. Supplies. Repairs. Furniture. Medicines. The one thing she didn't have to worry about was the staff's salary. The Rye Sanatorium was a small place, and the amount of truly... troublesome patients residing there didn't outnumber the fingers of an ordinary person's hand. With Francis gone, the only one left to run the place had been Nymphaea herself for quite a while. Incidentally, with Francis gone the experiments could no longer continue either, which meant that Nymphaea herself was in fact capable of taking care of nearly everything by herself.

So she had tried to convinced herself, as least.

She doubted those experiments would've continued either way, in truth. At least not in their previous form.

Not like it mattered anymore.

It took her a few moments -perhaps even a few seconds- to realize that her gaze had wandered to an empty spot on the wall. In the direction of Francis' office. Again. She had only taken the necessary documents to run the Sanatorium from there, but other than those the room hadn't been touched at all since that day, if not to be cleaned. Nymphaea had repurposed her own quarter into a second office instead. Occupying Francis'... the idea itself left an unpleasant mark on her mood. For the same reason Nymphaea had only taken up the mantle of acting director and not that of real director. One could reasonably argue for there to be more practical reasons behind that particular choice, such as her lack of pertaining academic titles for example, but none of them were quite as important to her.

She grabbed another book and sat down again. The Nathan Green Foundation -Herbert, really- was no longer providing funds for the Sanatorium, and while Mythag University was willing to provide more than just money, they were no charity either, for as good-hearted as some of their members might've been. The funding they afforded was enough for the time being, and they even routinely sent some people by to assist, mostly a teacher with a very small group of students who, as per their words, 'could use the first-hand experience', but relying entirely on a single institution for support -not simply financial but even staffing assitance- made her worry. Especially because, simply put, Nymphaea wouldn't have been capable of truly keeping the Sanatorium open without their assistance. Would she have to look for other sponsors? The possibility of someone being willing to finance a small sanatorium in the outskirts of Rye, where most patients couldn't even pay for their own treatment, was... not zero, she guessed. But not that distant from it either. Would that be nothing more than a pointless waste of time and energy?

Her gaze moved to the clock, then trailed down as if to avoid thinking about how little she had slept that night, her eyes coming to rest on a collection of poems resting on her desk, which in turn made her thoughts wander elsewhere, to somewhere distant.

Someone, rather. A person she hadn't seen in a while. A while too long, perhaps. She had... probably published a new collection, but between one matter and the other Nymphaea hadn't had the time to grab a copy for herself yet, much less have a chat with her.

A sudden knock at the door nearly startled her out of her thoughts. A patient? Possible, most of them announced themselves but a few didn't. One of Mythag's students, or perhaps the teacher looking after them?

"Nymphaea? Are you there?"

None of those options, as it turned out.

"I'm coming"

It only took a moment for Lily to jump into her after the door opened, the little girl's arms closing around Nymphaea in a soft and yet vigorous hug, mimicked to some degree by the black pustules which were equally Lily's companions, guardians and Lily herself.

"Good day, Nymphaea"

"Good day, Lily. I wasn't expecting your visit" she replied, bringing a gloved hand to the girl's shoulder and caressing her, her gaze briefly lingering on the black pustules and finding them, in their own way, healthy.

"A little something came up nearby" a third voice replied, one Nymphaea was only somewhat familiar with "They sent me to fetch a little meddling pack in Rye, one coincidence led to another and as luck wanted, this little lady could hitch a ride for a little trip back"

"Thank you again, mr. Ryker. You drive very well, I am sure Lily enjoyed the journey"

"Why thanks, lady" the man replied with a small bow "She slept most of the way"

"I doubt your task had anything to do with the Sanatorium. I appreciate your gesture"

"No need to" the man replied, tipping his hat at her "This place's not that far from the town itself. And I might get an extra day's worth of pay if our detour takes long enough" he added, and Nymphaea couldn't quite tell whether he was simply joking or not.

He never struck her as someone in dire need of money in their sparse previous encounters but, then again, were gamblers ever not in need of money? Incidentally, was it truly a good idea to leave Lily alone with him for the journey? Mythag's people weren't irresponsible and knew Ryker far better than her, so... she probably had nothing to worry about. And Ryker did seem to have enough common sense to not bring up his hobbies around impressionable kids too.

... was Lily truly an impressionable kid though?

"Nymphaea, you look tired" Lily said after having taken a step back "Have you been sleeping well? Can Lily help you with anything?" she inquired, the pustules around her feet turning their faces -or what little of it they had, if at all- towards Nymphaea as well.

I cannot truthfully say I have.

The roof was in need of repairs, the price of medications had gone up slightly, the harvest that year hadn't been quite as bountiful as expected so the price of fruits and vegetables had increased as well. Margaret's legs had grown too weak for her to walk on her own, Lucas died, and someone else did too. Someone whose name couldn't be read on the registries anymore already.

"There's been some things to deal with lately" she replied instead, crouching down to get to Lily's eye level "Nothing you should worry about. I have some help now as well, so the situation is stable"

Lily stared back at her, tilting her head a little bit. She could see the bags under Nymphaea's eyes -a remarkable feat in itself given Nymphaea's pallor, more reminiscent of a drowned corpse than of a sick person- but she wasn't sure whether she should speak up about that or not.

"We can take a look around the Sanatorium maybe?" Ryker proposed.

"That's a good idea. Jean misses playing with you" Nymphaea replied, getting back up and looking at the smile appearing on Lily's face "Your room is still in order. I have a few things to finish. Can you wait me there in the meanwhile? Koum should be sleeping there too. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you as well. Then we can have breakfast together"

Lily nodded, turning around and happily strolling away through the hallway, one of the black pustules betraying the true direction of her thoughts as it fixed intently in the same direction Nymphaea had caught herself staring into earlier.

"Do you have any admirers, Nymphaea?"

The words reached her ears swiftly, but the sheer oddness of their meaning left her stunned for a few brief seconds. She blinked, turning towards the man who had just asked such a weird thing, his gesture shedding both light and further confusion on his inquiry. He was holding out a small gift, wrapped in simple paper and tied with a bright red ribbon.

"An elusive lady asked me to bring you this, saying she didn't dare interrupt your work over this"

"... thanks" the reply came, a little later than she had meant to, as she took the small package.

It felt like a book, if she had to take a guess.

"Not to pry" Ryker added with remarkable indifference on his face and a preemptive shrug of his shoulders "But you look stressed out, miss. You should probably take a small break from work. A vacation, maybe"

Nymphaea looked at the gift again, conflicting thoughts swirling around inside her mind.

That wouldn't be her first time leaving the Sanatorium for a few days since Francis' departure, after all. She was hesitant to do so, but she could trust Mythag's personnel with taking care of the patients for a few days without her. They were rather competent. Besides, interacting with new people would help the patients somewhat too. A sudden weariness knocked at the door of her being the moment the prospective of a pause, however short, truly took shape inside her head, made warmer by the mental image of meeting with a certain someone again.

"Do you speak from experience, mr. Ryker?"

"Not in the slightest" the man replied with the smile of someone for whom the line between work and leisure could change on any given day with little to no warning.

Oddly enough, that made his earlier suggestion that much more convincing.

---

It was an ordinary evening in Rainy Town. The sky was setting, but the layer of clouds covering the sky made it rather difficult to tell. The air was chilly, just enough to convince one to put on an extra layer of clothing when going for a stroll. Nothing of real relevance had happened since the skull hunter case thankfully -except arguably a little change of hands at the post office- and the small settlement had been allowed to fall back into its peaceful, perhaps even somewhat boring routine. Well, it wasn't raining admittedly, which wasn't exactly the norm there, but even a place named after such a weather had to see slightly better days every now and then.

On that particular evening, Horla would've quite appreciated the rain. She wasn't particularly fond of it, just like she held no real animosity or distate for that sort of weather -though she did enjoy it more than the current layer of dark, threatening clouds looming above which promised a downpour without delivering- but the sound? The sound of raindrops falling on the roof, against the glass of her window and into her little garden might've helped her focus, or maybe fully distract her from her thoughts. Both outcomes would've been appreciated, as her current state was not one she could take any delight in.

The main light in her bedroom was turned off, a small lamp on her desk to illuminate the blank page of a notebook in its stead. The tip of a pen rested above the welcoming surface, occasionally hitting it at unregular intervals, leaving a few nearly but not quite concentrical black dots on the white sheet. Horla knew better than to force a verse when inspiration was truly lacking, but she couldn't gather her thoughts enough to remind herself of it at the moment.

She was worried.

It was, perhaps, a very silly worry, an inconsequential concern, but it nonetheless weighted on her mind. One minute she would focus on the page in front of her, thinking about how that tree in the west street leading to the bookstore truly looked like a giant owl at night under the dim light of a nearly new moon, the next one she would question her own decision from last week, asking herself whether sending that book hadn't come off as arrogant, boisterous even. Not to mention the content of the envelope she had hidden between its pages. No letter had been left for her at Mythag since then, which did nothing but fuel her unease. She chastised herself over it: it had been only around ten days after all.

The flower in her left eye -her left eye itself, rather- shivered, followed mere moments later by a faint jolt coursing through her skin. It was getting colder, and adding a bit of fuel to the stove would both keep her warm and help her direct her thoughts elsewhere, if however briefly. Then, partially to better fight off the cold that would surely creep up at night and partially for other reasons, she decided to put some water to boil on the stove to make some tea. A bit late for that in truth, at least as far as Horla herself was used to, but she decided to indulge a little bit. A little bit further still, even, since she used enough water to still have another cup or two left for later. Still, she would soon have to stay in the living room when writing. Heating the bedroom as well would take up too much fuel and time in autumn, let alone winter.

Then something unexpected happen, shortly enough after that the water to not have reached its boiling point yet.

The bell at the front door of her house rang out, the sound reaching her muffled by the walls but nonetheless making her aware of the odd occurrence that was a visitor coming to her place. Was it Daffodil perhaps? She... couldn't really think of anyone else who might drop by her place, especially after dinner, especially unannounced. And even then, it would still be a little odd for Daddofil to show up so suddenly, unless... unless something had happened. The bell chimed a second time, the sound alone making her fade a bit more than usual, but a quick breath allowed her to not disappear from sight any further. She had yet to change into her nightwear, thankfully, so a quick fix of her clothes was all she needed to be presentable before going to answer the door.

Well, not like she opened it anyway, no. She was getting better at interacting with strangers, but she had only made steps, not leaps. And that was without getting into the matter of how her perpetual, partial invisibility affected her daily life with ordinary people. Although Horla considered herself rather ordinary too, in truth.

With all of that aside, she opened the small hatch on her front door to take a look outside, and the sight which met her eyes made her fade a little bit more still, the petals of her left eye spreading open ever so slightly.

"Miss Nymphaea?" she asked, flabbergasted.

Whichever the state of visibility of her face might've been as those words left her mouth, the shock in her voice would've reached Nymphaea either way. Even more important than that, however, was the faint vibration moving through the air, the soft echo of Horla's being itself which spread out whenever the poetess spoke, and truthfully even when she remained silent.

"Good evening, miss Horla. Is this a bad moment?" she asked in turn, her mild puzzlement not seeping into her words in the slightest.

"Not at all, no. Quite the opposite if anything, I was just making some tea" Horla replied, closing the hatch and opening the door itself to welcome her unexpected guest in.

Nymphaea nodded, taking her hat off with her free hand -she was holding a minute vase of flowers in the other, a small bag hanging from her shoulder- and walking inside, watching her steps to ensure she wouldn't leave dirt on the floor before really entering.

"I wasn't expecting visits, so... please, don't mind the disorder" Horla said while closing the door, only then realizing what she had done.

A few scattered papers Nymphaea thought, Horla's words causing her gaze to briefly wander over her surroundings for a few moments Some notes, some pencils, a few books lying around. Hardly a mess, I believe.

"I wrote a letter" Nymphaea replied instead as she turned around "Did it not reach you?"

She could never tell whether she wanted to look into Horla's pale blue eye or into the bright red rose blooming on her face. So, just as she always did, she focused on the spot right between the two, not relishing in either sight.

"Did you send it to this address?" Horla asked back, a little startled "The local postman died recently, there are quite a few delays in the delivery of mails and packages at the moment... "

"I apologize. I'll leave you to your business if- "

"No, please. It's a pleasure having you over, truly. In fact, I believe this is our first time meeting outside of Mythag. Make yourself comfortable, I'll prepare something"

Horla's heart pulsed out, a soft touch which caressed Nymphaea's skin and bones, seeping into her mind and lulling a foreign and yet welcome, warm feeling into her own heart in turn. Technically not an unusual occurrence but, as Nymphaea had learned, she was a fair bit more susceptible to Horla's innately radiating emotions than most others, who could only feel the poetess' emotions when they were more intense than that.

Was Horla herself aware of that one particular trait of Nymphaea, she wondered. She... most likely wasn't, no.

"I appreciate your hospitality, miss Horla. I hope you won't mind this gift" she replied, offering the small vase.

It was minute enough to be held with one hand, although Horla still grabbed it with both, and rather elegant in design, even if -or precisely because it was- lacking in fanciful decorations of any sort. The flowers held inside were not many, but the simple composition was nonetheless pleasant to the eye. The sweet fragrance of the white lilies softly tickled her nostrils, accompanied by the stronger scent of the lavender, while the few red carnations added an ever so slightly spicy note to the overall aroma.

"It's a lovely thought, miss Nymphaea, thanks" she replied while quickly looking for a place to put the vase down on.

The table would've been the most logical choice, but that's also where they'd sit down at in a moment, so... no, actually, that sounded like a good reason to put that vase exactly there, didn't it?

"Take a seat, I'll prepare the cups" she said, putting the gift down and heading towards the small kitchen.

Nymphaea briefly considered offering to help, but a strange thought entered her mind, silently leading her towards a chair instead. She sat down as instructed by her host and stared at Horla without speaking, following her with her gaze while the poetess fetched a small tray and prepared the necessary for having tea. There was a certain... she didn't quite want to call it grace, that quality she saw in Horla's movements. Choosing such a word would've felt needlessly boisterous. No, it was something else, something simply... endearing.

Another soft pulse reached her, one of mild uncertainty.

Would it be uncout to offer assistance?

... it'd be rude to put this on the table, wouldn't it? Horla thought while staring at the almost-half cake left in the cupboard.

It was one she truly liked, a slightly crunchy softcrust pastry with sweet cream as a filling and bits of pieces of dried fruits on top, but presenting what was technically a leftover didn't strike her as polite. No, the jar of cookies was clearly the better option so she took that one instead, placed it on the tray together with the cups, the spoons, the sugar bowl and a couple of napkins, waited another minute for the water to boil, poured it out and then brought everything to the table.

"Thank you"

"It's nothing, really"

... what is this feeling? Nymphaea wondered as another pulse echoed in from outside her heart, a faintly warm sensation which brought with it mild agitation and vague... a vague something else.

She decided to not think about it too much for the time being, simply enjoying the warmth of Horla's heart as she waited for the tea to cool down a little.

And then...

... then nothing happened. Unless we were to consider the disappearence of a few cookies and the pouring of the tea from its pot to the cups as something worth mentioning, that is.

And for quite a while those were truly the only events which transpired there.

Just as Horla had said, that was their first time meeting outside of Mythag, and when the two of them met at the University it was usually in the library, where talking wasn't exactly encouraged, or at the book club, where the subject of conversation usually presented itself in the convenient shape of whatever book either one might be holding or looking for at the moment. There had been that one time Nymphaea had helped Horla hide from Hannah as well, yes, but that one had truly been a special case. Still, Nymphaea didn't dislike spending some time in silence like that.

... is she here because of the poem? She never visited me here before, so that must be it. But why exactly? Did she like it? Nymphaea is a fast reader, she might have read the entire collection already... but that's also assuming that she liked it enough to finish it. Or maybe it's about something else? ... it... has to be about that poem. Rye is quite far and there aren't shuttles that go straight from there to Rainy Town. Did I go overboard? Should I ask? Or would that give the impression that I'm more concerned with the reason for her visit than with her visit itself?

Four different things told Nymphaea that Horla was getting lost in her thoughts. One was the flower on her face, its petals closing up on themselves slightly. A rather more noticeable one was her tea cup, which she had been holding close to her lips for a few minutes by that point. It wasn't weird for her to not have taken so much as a single sip yet, it was still too hot for that after all, but Nymphaea was almost completely sure that the temperature of the drink had barely even registered in Horla's mind at the moment. Much more noticeable was the barely visible outline of a parchment which had happeared around the poetess, a large sheet of slightly charred paper with lines written upon it with a most exquisite penmanship. In its barely manifested form the scroll could hide neither Horla nor itself from sight the way it was meant to, but it still made her entire figure a little blurry. It made for a somewhat weird view, in truth. Nymphaea had grown used to Horla's normal appearance, although the sight of a seemingly detached, floating head on top of an apparently empty, wandering attire had admittedly left her rather startled at first. It was far from the oddest sight she had ever seen, but at the same time it was a different sort of oddness compared to the one she had grown accustomed to.

The last and most telling sign of Horla's growing unease, however, was the one Nymphaea couldn't perceive with her five senses. The soft, tender, almost shy pulse of Horla's heart rippling through the air and seeping into Nymphaea, making her experience the poetess' feeling as if her own.

Nymphaea had always held conflicting opinions about that particular quality of Horla.

But right then, right there, she decided to not linger on any of those opinions and speak up instead.

"I received your latest book, miss Horla" she decided to speak up, pulling said book from her bag and gently placing it down on the table "I'm grateful for your consideration, I hadn't had the chance to buy a copy yet"

The echo in the air grew a little warmer.

"May I inquire about your new pen name?" she asked "Horla Corlet"

A brief pulse of deep purple, short but intense. Nymphaea felt her heart sink for a moment, only to resume beating with something she would've described as cherished relief right after. Feelings not hers, and yet pleasant despite that knowledge.

"Colette" Horla replied, a name Nymphaea had already heard from her in the past "Have you heard of the Cité case?"

"Not in details. But I remember Colette. You spoke of her before"

"Colette was the one causing the abnormalities in the city. And... her and I... we managed to truly speak to each other the way she should... the way I wish we'd done from the start, all those years ago. We spoke for the first time, perhaps. And... and for the last time too"

Nymphaea felt something surge up from within, something born in her own being rather than planted in by Horla's naturally outwardly spreading emotions, something which conflicted with the sense of closure the poetess was giving off. She nearly opened her lips, but stopped. 'I apologize'. Those words would've felt like an insult to the emotions Horla was experiencing at the moment. That was not the heart of someone stuck in the past.

She could tell.

It was unlike hers, after all.

Nymphaea's mind briefly wandered to Francis, and the realization of what that unpleasant bile her own heart had spewn out mere moments later left an even bitter taste lingering in her mind.

That wouldn't do.

"Your poems are as beautiful as always, miss Horla" she said instead, letting herself float in the tender warmth radiating from Horla with something Nymphaea herself would've deemed as egotistical opportunism "The thematical structure of your sonnets was much more reminiscent of your earlier works, and the pictures conjured by your words had a surprising novelty to them despite... no, precisely thanks to the change in your writing style, substantial but not overly so, and the short ballad marking the beginning of the last quarter of the book bore all the distinctive traits of your sensibility. Had I not known for certain from you, I never would've guessed this to be your first attempt at a narrative ballad. I would even say that this entire collection was written to slot in the past of your works, rather than in the present. But please, do not consider that a critique"

"You flatter me, miss Nymphaea" Horla replied, the ever so slightly mixed emotions she felt at those words spreading out softly, the parchment lingering in the air around her fading away "I must confess, I feared this collection might've taken too many... departures from my more traditional writings for your taste" she said, taking a sip from her cup at last.

"You're the one flattering me with such words" Nymphaea, who had already drank most of her tea in the meanwhile, replied "There surely are people whose opinion should be more important to you than mine"

"There aren't"

Nymphaea's heart beat twice. Once fom the poetess' feeling, and once for its own.

Was that truly arrogance on her part?

"I meant" Horla added as she brought her gloved hands nearly to her face, the intense red of the petals of her left eye seemingly spreading to the rest of her face to a small degree "I meant... "

"Miss Horla" Nymphaea decided to speak up, uncertain of where her emotions ended and where Horla's began in that unfamiliar mix of feelings "Forgive my bluntness, but I believe this poem to be about me?" she inquired, changing the subject by opening the book to a single, unbound sheet of paper clearly written by hand rathen than by press.

The sudden pulse of embarrassed joy startled Nymphaea, nearly stunning her for a second. Somewhat ironically, it was the following beat of anxiety which allowed her to so swiftly reorient herself among her thoughts.

"It is"

Becoming aware of the rising intensity of the outflow of her emotions, Horla placed an hand on her chest to pace her breathing, containing them within herself, leaving Nymphaea alone with the realization that not all of the warm sensation which had been enveloping her had been sourced by the poetess.

"Certainly someone else would've been more deserving of these verses" she replied, her gaze fixed on the singular poem beneath her palm.

That was not quite the way Horla had meant things to happen. Her original intention had been to wait a while longer for an opinion, a comment, a refusal even, anything, and then reach out herself if nothing came her way. Looking at things now, she was unsure whether she had once again lacked in determination or not. She was leaning towards the former option though.

"Nymphaea" she said, placing her hands on the table and standing up, taking notice of both acts only after having performed them "I initially mistook for admiration what I feel. And I do admire you, truly. I find both your work and your dedication to it inspiring. And you find new meaning in poems I thought I knew already, shining a new light on them. You can get along with people with ease, and- "

That last part in particular felt almost sarcastic.

It probably would've been, had it come from nearly anyone else.

"Horla" Nymphaea replied, getting up from her seat in turn and closing the short distance between them following an impulse only minorly of her own, resting her gloved hand on the exposed -and thus invisible- bend of Horla's arm with what she deemed a necessary lack of manners "I drowned myself in my first life, and what I do in this new one is hardly different from easing people who can't be cured into tranquility as their own death approaches. Acting director I may be, but I have neither the knowledge nor the means to truly cure the patients of the Sanatorium" she said, the soft coldness of her fingers combating the natural warmth of Horla's arm "You brim with life, Horla. You are warm and beautiful. You have lived longer than me both in life and as an Awakener, and you'll live longer than me still. I'm certain of that. What you told me with that poem is... surely better saved for someone else"

Horla pushed her hand against her chest again, this time with more strength. She didn't want her emotions to leak out, not right then, not during that conversation.

"Don't think about what one should or shouldn't do now. Just tell me" she replied, taking Nymphaea's hand into hers and guiding it up to her cheek "If you return at all any of the feelings I conveyed with those lines"

"What is it that you see in me, Horla?"

"I see you" she replied, bringing her hands to Nymphaea's cheeks, the distance between them having shrunk at some point "I love the way your eyes reflect nothing, Nymphaea, because when I look into them all I wish to see is you, not what little of my own reflection my body would offer"

"... Horla, I believe your emotions are leaking out again" Nymphaea replied, the unexpected grasp of her fingers on Horla's shoulder startling the poetess, causing a whisper of springful anticipation and stormy dread to ripple out from her "But I... enjoy the way your heart wraps around me. It reminds me of the embrace of the sea, but it's... warmer. More gentle. And... "

Horla felt her heart beat with a slow, overbearing intensity, the flower in her face spreading its petals. Nymphaea let the wave wash over her like a caress, allowing the emotion to seep into her, mix with her, and letting it help something else bloom at least a little bit more properly from within too. A part of her held doubts on how much of what she was feeling was her own emotion, it held doubts on whether enough of it belonged to her to truly be genuine.

But right there, right then, the simple knowledge that not all of it came from Horla was enough. She couldn't savor her parents' company in life. With every passing day the belief that she hadn't done enough for Francis before her departure grew stronger. She could barely keep the Sanatorium standing to preserve what had been Lily's home. Whatever that thing filling her from within might've been was new, and it was precious, in an almost unsettling way even. And not knowing what tomorrow might bring, she wanted to truly cherish at least that one thing while she could.

She looked at Horla and, unlike hers, her eye did reflect, letting Nymphaea stare at her own visage.

"... pardon my lack of manners then" she said, her words causing a weak jolt in Horla, who had been silently waiting for an answer which came in a way as unexpected as it was precious.

Nymphaea leaned forward, getting on her tiptoes a bit to compensate the small height advantage the poetess had on her, her cold lips softly coming to rest on Horla's, a slightly chilly touch carrying tenderness and care, her mouth just barely pushing against Horla's, her grip on the poetess' arm and cheek loosening while Horla's own trembled, her fingers shivering against Nymphaea's cheeks. A feeling warmer than before rang out through the air, mixing with Nymphaea's own and echoing within her, spurring her a little bit further, her lips opening a little bit as if to invite Horla's into doing the same.

As for Horla, she nearly literally shook herself out of that brief, blissful stupor she had fallen into, shifted her feet a little to better balance herself and held Nymphaea's cheeks with both hands. Her skin felt ever so slightly damp to the touch despite being dry, but the heat from Horla's palms began to heat her up, slowly spreading through her face, the closeness emboldening Horla that little bit more, her lips pushing back and reaching for Nymphaea, a slightly wet sensation unlike that of saliva greeting her, a faint aroma of a flower the name of which Horla couldn't quite place at the moment tickling her nostrils. Her heart pulsated outwards again, the ripples of her emotions bringing Nymphaea into an emotional state she had at times read about but which she wouldn't say she had ever truly experienced herself, the tenderly surging elation making her reach for Horla with more intensity, her body following something which lied halfway between instinct and second-hand knowledge as she tried to push her tongue out a little bit.

The sudden sensation startled Horla yet again, the already unexpected situation having suddenly developed even further, but her moment of hesitation lasted only the blink of an eye. With just as much -little- experience as Nymphaea, vastly more -literary, in a way- knowledge of the act than her but not as much impetus -despite being herself the source of most of Nymphaea's very own forwardness- Horla opened her mouth and let Nymphaea's tongue past her teeth with a mix of glee and embarrassment which pulsed out, the former seemingly having more influence on Nymphaea than the latter if the way her hand tenderly slid down to Horla's lower back to hesitantly pull her closer was of any indication.

Horla was warm. Nymphaea knew that already. She smelled of roses. The opposite would've been genuinely puzzling, given her eye. But Nympahea was only then realizing just how intense the heat of the poetess' body could be, like a flame that wouldn't burn. She was only then realizing how penetrating the aroma of her skin could be, entering her and soothing her mind, gently overpowering the lingering scent of the tea and putting her thoughts to rest for a while, letting her focus only on the present. And she was only then discovering how delicate her taste was, a soft sweetness which seemed to only grace Nymphaea's tongue for a passing moment, prompting her to reach for it right again, to savor it, to savor her. She adjusted her grip on the poetess, one hand on her lower back, the other carefully moving behind her back, her fingers sinking in those pale white locks, her touch delicate not to avoid the rose's thorns but rather to pay omage to its beauty.

And as Horla's parchment appeared again, wrapping around them to hide them from sight, to let them be the only existence in each other's world if but a few moments, the poetess learned something new of Nymphaea as well.

She was cold. Not freezing like a winter breeze, nor chilly like an autumn's morning. It was a more delicate cold, one which sent a brief shiver through Horla's skin before abating, taking in her body heat and warming up. She smelled of flowers, like she always did, but from so up close another aroma could be noticed, the faintest trace of the sea's scent, accompanied by a weak, salty taste coating her tongue, a sensation balanced out by the oddly and yet endearingly permeating wetness which seemed to seep from her mouth and into Horla's, fueling something more primal and yet delicate within the poetess. And with it came something else, a tingly sensation of sort which slowly spread out inside her mouth, a sense of breezy baredness taking over her tongue and gums and cheeks one little bit at a time.

She held on to her more, her parchment closing further around them be it by conscious choice or not, Nymphaea's tender, almost revering touch growing more passionate, more intense, making Horla's heart beat that little bit faster with every peck of those lips, with every tender reaching from that tongue, with every caress from those palms, and in turn Horla's flowing emotions fueled Nymphaea's desire, her hands slowly tracing down to the poetess' waist, her sides and then further down, following her long skirt and stopping at her thighs, until she pulled back slightly.

And then Horla nearly yelped, an unexpected force lifting her off the ground and shifting her a little bit, just what was needed to place her down on the table.

"Horla" Nymphaea whispered "Horla" she repeated, her voice entering Horla's ears like a gentle tide, her lips looking for that invisible neck and finding it, placing on the skin a kiss intense enough to tenderly lure a whimper out of Horla "You're so warm... "

Something similar but not quite akin to panic briefly took over Horla, radiating out together with an intense embarrassment and a deeper craving, the sudden beat startling Nymphaea enough to make her take half a step back, her gaze briefly falling on the patch of wetness seemingly floating in the air where Horla's neck was before moving up to her eyes, Nymphaea's black saliva sticking to the poetess' invisible skin in a somewhat unnatural way.

"I-I shouldn't have-!" Nymphaea began to speak, only for Horla to hurriedly grab her wrist to keep her from backing away.

Horla knew that Nymphaea was poisonous to a degree even when she was not actively meaning to produce poison -that's why she always wore gloves-, but Horla herself was innately sturdier than the ordinary person thanks to her nature as an Awakener, although perhaps 'resilient' might've been a better way to put it. She believed no amount of contact could harm her as long as Nymphaea carried no hostility in her touch, her certainty spreading out and easing the concern out of Nymphaea's own heart in turn. If anything, the prickly sensation left behind by her saliva made her crave her touch that much more.

And, while Nymphaea could see faint, bluish bruises appearing where she had touched Horla directly, she could also see those bruises beginning to fade right away, the poetess' heart soothing her own, drowning her worries, boosting her relief.

"It's fine" Horla said, fearing what might come out of Nymphaea's mouth were she to speak first, fighting against herself to reach for her hand to ensure she wouldn't back away any further "I... I want this, Nymphaea. I can take a bit of contact. Roses are resilient, they don't wither that easily. I want this" she repeated "If it's with you. Precisely because it's you. If that's what you want as well... sorry, give me a... "

"Don't" Nymphaea interrupted her, taking Horla's hand and preventing her from placing it on her own chest again "Please. Let your heart coat me. It's a sensation I truly cherish. I shall be more composed, if... you'll let me continue" she said, silencing her own mind, clinging to that warm touch she couldn't otherwise feel.

Horla's rose eye spread out its petal further as she held on to Nymphaea to keep herself up straight, the possibility of falling down on the cups or bowl or jar just barely keeping her thoughts grounded.

"The... the bedroom is upstairs"

Nymphaea blinked. That was such a simple matter, and yet one which had somehow entirely slipped her mind up.

"Yes. By all means then" she replied, stepping back and helping Horla off the table, Nymphaea's particular constitution preventing Horla's outward-facing heart from turning her cheeks an oh so faint shade of red.

Once back on her feet Horla fixed her clothes, despite them not really being in need of it nor the act itself being needed either way, and reached for Nymphaea's hand, that brief pause allowing her to gather her feelings somewhat, which in turn let Nymphaea do the same too.

"This way then" she said as she led the way, embarrassed resolution in her steps.

The house was nowhere near large enough for a guide to be needed to find any given room, but Nymphaea simply followed Horla upstairs, through the minute hallway and into her bedroom, finding it just as orderly as the living room, another surge in the poetess' emotions to remind her that such things were of no importance as she made sure the curtains were properly closed.

"I, we... I suppose I should... "

Feeling Horla's uncertainty and its nature, pertaining not to the act itself but rather to the... shall we say specific steps to take, Nymphaea placed her hands on Horla's shoulders and gently sat her down on the bed, a simple one placed more or less in the middle of the room, the mattress resting on a modest wooden frame. She was less prone to that sort of hesitation by nature and, with the poetess' springful emotions spurring her forth and coating her in their warmth, the gestures seemed to come to her naturally, even if they were in truth quite improvised.

"There's no need to fret" she spoke, running the back of her fingers on Horla's cheek, her glove still preventing direct contact, her poison incapable of spreading through her clothes if she focused enough "Not on this evening"

Perhaps due to Nymphaea's confidence -be it merely apparent or not- or to something else, Horla calmed down a little, or maybe she simply shifted her mental focus to something more important than worries and welcomed Nymphaea's lips on hers as she leaned down and forward, cupping each other's cheeks at first, softly exploring each other's back then, Horla's fingers sinking into Nymphaea's clothes at times, as if there were spots where her body was missing, a faint sense of vertigo occasionally striking her for brief, distant moments.

And once again Nymphaea felt her desire grow stronger thanks to Horla's heart, her welcoming heat luring her in. She didn't grow bolder so much as she grew more eager, not to quench her own desire but rather to satisfy Horla's, pushing her back softly and guiding her down until she had her back on the sheets. Nymphaea straddled her without really getting on the bed herself, simply resting her knees down on the side of the mattress, their eyes fixed on each other.

She looked at Horla's chest, her dress moving up and down with her every breath, and brought an hand up to the ribbon on her own neck.

"May I?" she spoke, an hint of hesitation in her voice which prompted Horla to push herself back up with her elbows.

"It would be a pleasure" she replied, bright red and ever so slightly transparent in the face, reaching up to cup Nymphaea's cheek "Truly"

There was still a certain uncertainty in Nymphaea's hands, but her fingers began to unbutton her dress, first the upper left corner to open the outer layer, then the upper right, and then two more on her back, composedly shedding the upper half of her dark brown dress, the layers and long sleeves falling down her legs like pieces of a new skirt, leaving nothing but a black bra to cover her torso.

"It is not a pleasant sight" she said, backing away ever so slightly, covering herself with one arm "I have to hide it from the patients, for their own mental well-being"

"A sight is already more than I can offer" Horla replied, placing her hand back on Nymphaea's shoulder and softly running it up to her cheek "And it is not an unpleasant one. It could never be" she said "Not to me"

Nymphaea's body was not whole. Parts of her torso were missing, mostly the back and her left side, from the waist up and reaching a small part of her chest, her skin and flesh fading into nothing like a light winter mist, leaving parts of an unusually green skeleton and bits of live, pulsating, unnaturally pale organs visible. Horla would've probably been unsettled by such a sight, had she still been her live self. But as an Awakener herself, all that she saw was a woman who, just like her, had been granted a second chance at life, even if not quite a normal chance.

"You're beautiful, Nymphaea. More than the sun's rays through the crown of a tree"

She wasn't lying. Nymphaea could feel it in the lightless radiance seeping into her from the poetess, from the tender longing in her fingers, from the flustered redness of her cheeks.

And if Horla said that, then maybe it was really true.

"Bright and warm the sun might shine, but it's the tender flower that gives color to the earth" she said, leaning down and reaching for Horla's palms, their fingers intertwining as the poetess blushed a little bit more upon hearing one of her own earlier, much less known works quoted.

"You truly read all of them"

"Your words bring me peace" she said back before leaning down, their hands holding each other with tender desire as Nymphaea kissed Horla again, her nearly bare chest coming to rest slightly on Horla as they partook of each other's essence, scent, taste.

"I... my emotions are not forcing you... are they?" Horla spoke, the tinge of blackness reaching the surface of her mind and seeping out.

"Had I truly not wanted this" Nymphaea replied, softly pushing her lips against Horla's neck and making her shiver, leaving another tingly patch of black saliva on her "I would have spoken up or left already. But your concern warms me"

She was right there. She was close. So close. She was touching her, savoring her, and she was about to touch and savor her even more. And it truly looked like Horla could resist her poison, at least so long as she focused and kept it as diluted as possible, the faint purple bruises lasting only mere moments on her skin. Horla felt her breathing slow down, much to her own surprise, but at the same time she could feel something else. And then she inadvertently reminded Nymphaea that, just because her emotions easily radiated out of her own body, that didn't mean Nymphaea could actually read her mind.

"Nympahea, could you... " she began to ask, her parchment beginning to appear once again above them, Horla herself keeping it at bay "... could you... tie my hands?"

Nymphaea pushed herself back up, enough to regain full eye contact, and blinked.

"... pardon me?"

There was nothing but surprise in her words. In fact, that sort of startled expression was such a rare sight on Nymphaea's visage that Horla nearly let out a chuckle despite herself.

"It's just- I... I feel like I could... fade away and disappear if we simply continue like this. I need... I need to feel... grounded in some way, and I couldn't... think of... anything else... "

Another rare expression appeared on Nymphaea's face, a soft and amused smile. There seemed to still be a bit of puzzlement in it as well, but nothing more.

"I believe I can do that" she replied after a brief pause "Is there anything I can use?"

"There should be something in that drawer there... wait a moment... " Horla said, getting back up and walking to the edge of the room after Nymphaea had stepped aside.

"I am not bothered, Horla. Rather, I am glad that you fell... comfortable enough to ask, I think?" she half-said, half-asked to herself upon feeling another ripple of emotions from the poetess, though she was not quite entirely certain of what to make exactly of that sudden turn.

"Truly? I apologize, this is not, it was a sudden... "

"Horla. Please. It's merely a single sheet" Nymphaea interrupted her, taking the aforementioned white sheet from Horla's hands and gauging its size "But now I have to ask you to lie down" she added as she gestured to the bed.

Horla would've very much liked to ask herself why she had picked a sheet and not a pillowcase, but Nymphaea seemed... she wouldn't have quite said content with that particular object, but decidedly not troubled either. Although her request to lie down had admittedly left the poetess a little confused. Not enough for the feeling to reach Nymphaea though, at least not through the other, much more intense feelings she was already freely letting out.

"I am not familiar with this practice" Nymphaea said as she partially unfolded the sheet, turning it into a makeshift rope of sort "If the knot feels at all too tight, please tell me"

"S... sure" Horla replied, that simple, reasonable warning making her even more aware of how far -and how quickly, in truth- the situation had developed.

In that regard, lying down on her bed did help her pace her own heart somewhat. Then again, seeing Nymphaea pacing around the front of the bed while seemingly examining the folded sheet in her hand did give raise to a couple of questions inside her mind. Nymphaea had already said she wasn't familiar with that sort of things though, so she saw little point in asking even as her right wrist was grabbed and pulled up towards the headboard.

"This is a thought that has occurred to me more than once in the past" Nymphaea said as she softly ran her fingertips over Horla's palm before beginning to wrap one end of the sheet around her wrist "Your fingers are rather thin and long, Horla"

"Are they? I... rarely pay attention to such things, I fear"

"I take it your choice of words means you do on occasions?"

Horla turned over on her side and used her other hand to reach for Nymphaea's, caressing her.

"Now is one of such occasions"

Ah, that warmth radiating from her was truly a blessing, wasn't it? Nymphaea let herself enjoy the soft touch of those fingers for a short while longer, returning it in kind, before stepping back and, somewhat to Horla's bewilderment, running the sheet behind the headboard before beginning to tie its other end to the poetess' left wrist, which incidentally forced her to lie down on her back again. She did have enough wiggle room to turn around to some degree, but with her arms bound apart like that she couldn't comfortably lie on either side, much less turn around.

"Have I made a mistake?" Nymphaea asked, sensing the soft shift in Horla's emotions and then reading it on her face as well as she sat down on the bed again, straddling Horla once more, the position making the rose on the poetess' face close its petals briefly before spreading them out, a most peculiar way of blinking perhaps. She could feel Nymphaea's weight on her, and she could tell that some bits of her body were missing from her legs too. That made her lighter than she appeared, and the woman didn't strike her as being heavy to begin with.

Truthfully, Nymphaea's previous statement had been slightly closer to an half-lie than to a truth. She really was not familiar with the practice of restraining someone in bed for the sake of intimacy, but she had had to secure patients to their bunk in the past when an attack caused them to become too erratic for their own or other patients' good, which was actually why she instinctually tied Horla to the bed despite that not quite being part of the poetess' request. Still, Nymphaea didn't believe for that piece of information to be something to be mentioned there and then.

"N... no" Horla replied, her legs rubbing together a little "Not at all"

She had expected Nymphaea to simply tie her wrists together, or maybe even just tie one of her wrists and hold the sheet like a lifeline of sort. Ending up bound to the bed like that was not something which had entered the realm of her mind in the slightest. And yet the slightly chilly sensation of Nymphaea's body on hers like that seemed even more tender in such a situation. Her gaze briefly wandered over her skin, deathly pale, from her belly to her shoulders, from her navel to her neck, up to those dark blue hair crowning her face like a frame, and then to those seemingly hollow eyes which didn't seem quite as downcast as they usually appeared.

Incidentally, that made her crave her touch that much more. Was it that odd, lingering sensation deep inside of her part if ot maybe?

And, perhaps because she felt that heightened desire, Nymphaea leaned down, her hair falling on Horla's face as she stopped a mere inch above her lips to feel her breath, to savor that scent of spring and life, the poetess' heart pulsating with a warm tenderness which silenced her fear of tainting that pureness with her own being. Then Horla pushed her face up that little bit she needed and reached for Nymphaea herself, kissing her with a mixture of passion and shyness, Nymphaea's tongue spreading that faint tingle again while her left hand cupped Horla's cheek and tenderly stroke it, her other arm busy supporting her weight.

Horla's heart pulsed again, a part of her wondering whether the beat was audible only in her own mind or it if truly could reach Nymphaea's ears, echoing in the air like a bell the same way it did inside her head. Nymphaea's touch was slowly growing warmer and, perhaps, a little more probing too, her fingers slowly sinking into Horla's locks, her face bumping ever so softly against her flower eye and making her twitch.

"Apologies" she said, backing away no more than was needed to establish eye contact again "Is it sensitive?"

"Not much, in truth" Horla replied, the bright red on her cheeks standing out all the more against the... invisibility of her entire body from the chin down "I'm just... not used to it being touched by others. I tend to it regularly, but that's still... just myself"

"It needs special care?" Nymphaea asked, the surprise in her voice now much more contained than before.

"I don't water it" Horla replied with an ever so tender giggle which rippled through Nymphaea's entire auditory system "Not... not that often" she then added with what strongly felt like awkwardness on her face "But at times I need to pluck some petals off, and... sometimes I have to push it out a bit to clean beneath it"

Nymphaea bent her neck slightly to the left, and Horla found herself staring at the way her dark hair framed her pale skin once again, a short curtain to help her focus on nothing but Nymphaea herself, which in turn made her realize her parchment had appeared again, hovering in the air a little above them.

"Would it be uncouth of me to ask to see it?"

This time the one to blink was Horla, with both her human eye and her flower one, even if in exceedingly different ways. Her lips parted for a moment, but she refrained from talking. She didn't want to describe it as an unsettling sight, not after the way Nymphaea had already described herself earlier. And besides, there... truly wasn't much she could show other than her face. And she didn't want to deny a direct request from her either.

"Then, please, back away a little"

Nymphaea complied, pushing herself back up with both arms without really getting off of Horla, who on her part said nothing. The distance was sufficient, and in truth she didn't really want it to grow any greater than that at the moment either.

"Ah"

It was a peculiar feeling she just couldn't quite get used to, no matter how many years went by. It was similar to stretching her finger, in a way, but stretching her finger didn't cause a weak tension to build up inside her face. The rose that was her left eye began to protude outward slowly, carefully lifting itself above Horla's face, timidly perched atop a small stem covered in thorns. The petals spread out even more than before, the rose blooming fully and showing off its deep crimson to the world -to Nymphaea, though at the moment there was remarkably little difference between the two- and as the distance between it and Horla's face grew a little bit greater still Nymphaea could see underneath it. The eye socket was filled with a thick net of roots interwoven with what might've been blood vessels, with a small burrow right in the middle, presumably where the stem rested most of the time. Roots of an healthy color, even if not one anyone would ever expect to find in such a place, seemed to pulse and beat in time with what could only be Horla's heart. And, perhaps because the rose had yet to lower itself back down, a few roots shily reached outwards, spreading ever so slightly over Horla's face, barely reaching her nose, her other eye closing on its own, pulled slightly inward, as the rose provided a different, ampler but also somewhat disorienting field of view.

"A mesmerising sight" Nymphaea commented, not daring to move for the time being and simply staring instead, taking in the sweet fragrance which had decidedly grown stronger.

"Flatteries. There are much more beautiful roses in the gardens outside"

"That might be" Nymphaea replied, leaning down again, her lips reaching for Horla's transparent neck "But no garden matches the beauty of the one this rose planted its roots in"

An unusually flowery sentence, that one, at least according to Nymphaea's own opinion. Perhaps she was letting herself get a little too carried away. But then she felt a warm shiver coursing through her skin for a moment in response to the emotion radiating from Horla, and allowed herself a long moment to savor it.

"If that is truly the case, Nymphaea... might I ask you to tend to this garden for a while?" she asked, her human eye still tightly closed, the rose having leaned to one side a little to somehow get a better look at Nymphaea.

"I believe such a question to be rather reduntant at this point, Horla. But yes. Gladly"

Horla's breath caught in her throat for a second, two, three as Nymphaea reached for her clothes, sliding an hand between Horla's back and the sheets and finding a small zipper. Given her current position, she couldn't take Horla's dress off without tearing it apart -an oversight one deemed endearing, the other silly- but as luck wanted it, those sleeves could be opened as well on the back -an admittedly most odd design, Nymphaea briefly thought- which allowed the upper half of the dress to be pulled enough to reveal the poetess' chest without having to tear, cut or otherwise break anything, a simple but not plain white bra to give shape to what the eye couldn't see.

"... I apologize" Horla said, nearly biting down on her lip, as Nymphaea pushed the undergarment up and out of the way "This is the most I can do"

To say that Horla's body had become visible from the chin down the same way her head was would be a lie, plain and simple. There was merely a very slight distortion in the sheets Nymphaea could see by staring right through her, just barely enough to have a rough idea of where her body ended and empty air began.

"This might be brazen of me to say" Nymphaea replied, speaking both before and after having placed a kiss on Horla's neck, nearly drawing a soft whimper from her both times "But I find this lack of visual feedback... thrilling" she spoke, while pushing Horla's parchment away a little with one arm in truth, the scroll of paper having fallen down on them like an additional sheet to answer the poetess' embarrassment.

"That... that's a surprising statement. But I'm glad that you think so"

In response, Nymphaea crawled down the bed a little to get into a better position and searched for Horla's sides, finding them and then tracing her hands upwards slowly, the slight chill sending a shiver through her skin, followed by that mild, prickly sensation caused by the weakest poison Nymphaea could manage to produce.

"Ah" Horla whimpered when Nymphaea's hands tenderly cupped her chest, her fingers gently probing to get a feel of the size, the firmness, and even finding unexpected.

Still, Nymphaea didn't focus on Horla's chest. Nor right away, at least. She wanted to get a proper feeling of her shape first, softly running her palms over her skin, cooling it down while warming herself up, faint shivers only partially caused by the difference in temperature coursing through Horla and contributing somewhat to her soft trembling. The poetess was a little more plump than she had expected, but that might've been because a part of Nymphaea subconsciously associated poets with poor eating habits and occasional bouts of self-starvation for some reason.

And truthfully Horla did go through such things at times but, as an Awakener, her body couldn't truly suffer from hunger and lack of food either way.

"Ah!"

The unexpected touch of Nymphaea's lips made her whimper, that tingly sensation blooming on her chest, right where her heart was. Nymphaea stood still for a moment, two, listening, watching, feeling, and then she kissed Horla's skin again, her fingers caressing her as if touching a delicate statue, the soft sensation of Horla's legs squirming ever so weakly underneath Nymphaea rousing an unfamiliar but not unpleasant feeling deep within her. It was only when she felt Horla's parchment falling above them once more that Nymphaea decided to focus more on the poetess' chest, modest and firm, perhaps a little on the small side. And while she couldn't visually confirm it, Nymphaea was certain of what the sensation underneath her fingers was.

Horla's nipples were inverted.

A much more common condition than most people expected, but still one that made people needlessly self-aware, at least as far as Nymphaea knew. And because of that she decided to say nothing about it, simply caressing and stroking them with her fingers, a soft tingle spreading through Horla's chest not merely as a consequence of Nymphaea's ministrations. She continued to fondle and caress her, tending to a fire slowly growing within Horla, the poetess' flower eye bending a little bit further still towards Nymphaea as she continued to touch and care and kiss, prickles of different natures slowly spreading all over Horla, her voice occasionally leaking out as whispers.

"Do they... bother you?" she resolved to ask, perhaps because Nymphaea's left hand had been focused on her nipples for a while by then, her index running in circles over her areola and tapping her hiding nipple, occasionally trying to slide in and pull it out.

And in truth Horla was feeling them grow stiffer, enough for her to expect them to come out rather soon.

Embarrassing as that might've been, invisibility or not.

"There is no reason why they would. Rather, would you deem me mean" Nymphaea replied "If I said that they suit you?"

"There are many, many adjectives I would readily associate you with" Horla replied "But neither 'mean' nor any of its synonyms are among them"

"... that's a relief. Now, allow me to"

"Ah!"

Horla's upper body trembled, her wrists pulling against the soft and yet unyelding sheet binding them for a moment as a cold, damp sensation encircled her left nipple, Nymphaea's lips latching to her skin, her tongue tenderly caressing her areola and nipple, chilly saliva making the heat building up within her grow more fiery, the tender strokes causing Horla's breath to grow faster, more ragged. She tried to rub her legs together a bit, not entirely out of a conscious choice, Nymphaea's weight resting above them preventing her from doing so only to a degree rather than entirely, the faint chill on her skin giving way more and more quickly to the heat radiating from within her. Nymphaea felt Horla's back arching a little, her chest pushing ever so slightly against her mouth while the faint visual distortion loosely marking Horla's silhouette faded, making her grow a little bolder with her tongue, pushing it further against Horla's chest until the hiding nipple popped out at last, the sensitive flesh baring itself fully to Nymphaea's direct touch, the modest and yet noticeable spike in stimulation making Horla's entire body jolt for a moment.

"I lack experience in this field" Nymphaea spoke as she pulled her head back up.

Horla, one eye still closed and the other curling up its petals somewhat out of sheer shame, stared at her own chest, her left breast marked by drops of dark saliva glistening slightly under the light, as if to ensure she could see her own nipple standing.

It was, to be a little blunt, one of the most embarrassing sights she had ever rested her eyes upon.

"I... wouldn't have said so" she spoke instead, her rose eye locking gaze with Nymphaea, her chest moving up and down with every breath as Nymphaea briefly sat back, her hands moving to Horla's waist, sides, and generally tracing the outline of her torso again.

"Your words flatter me, Horla" Nymphaea replied before lying down again, closing her lips on the poetess' other breast and beginning to caress her still hiding nipple with her tongue, sending yet more shivers through her body, making her hold on to the slightly taunt sheets out of sheer embarrassment.

It took much less time to get the second nipple to protude out, the air feeling lukewarm against it if compared to Nymphaea's tongue and saliva, and yet Horla would've very much preferred that slight chill to last for at least a while longer. She couldn't quite bring herself to say that out loud but, while the emotions radiating from her didn't literally communicate her thoughts to Nymphaea, they did an excellent job of telling her what she felt.

Still, that craving for more was affecting Nymphaea, making her more eager to touch, to feel her up, to warm herself with that soft, sweet heat, the growing desire in her palms and lips in turn fueling Horla's own shy need more, looping back into Nymphaea again.

"Could you lift your legs for a moment, Horla?" Nymphaea asked as she moved to the side, sitting down on the sheets rather than on Horla's legs.

There was something a little amusing about the way Horla's flower spread its petals again at those words, Nymphaea believed. Probably because she had expected her to be a bit less talkative. Still, Horla complied, her head turning to the side as if to not stare, the rose bending its stalk to do precisely that instead as Nymphaea pulled the skirt of Horla's dress up to her calves, her knees, her thighs, and then further up to her hips, revealing black stockings tightly hugging Horla's legs, suspenders connecting them to a black garter belt which partially covered a white, simple but elegant undergarment.

Horla took a deep breath and resolved to focus on her sight. Nymphaea had placed an hand on her own chest, as if to feel her own heart beating. While still really slow by the standards of a living person -and by those of the overwhelming majority of Awakeners too- her pulse was still faster than what Nymphaea was used to. She could feel her own temperature dropping a little in response to the hastening beat of her heart, something akin to but unlike blood flowing through her veins as if her body wasn't missing pieces the same way an old, overly used anatomical model might.

"May I?" Nymphaea asked, her fingertips barely grazing the small patch of bare skin on Horla's thighs and feeling what most likely was a bead of sweat or two.

"Please, be... gentle" Horla said, the words getting all tangled together inside her mind in a similar and yet entirely different way compared to those unpleasant times she experienced a writing block.

"It was my desire" Nymphaea replied, her last word making Horla's heart skip a beat, the emotional ripple traveling back to Nymphaea herself and drawing an ever so soft smile on her face.

She reached for the garter belts, which held the stockings up with a tie around a small metal hook rather than with a clasp, and undid the knot, two different impulses, opposite in direction and yet identical in nature, trying to hasten her touch and slow it down at the same time, curiosity mixing with desire and conflicting with the wish to enjoy that soft, warm sensation, that smooth skin she could feel but not see.

But Horla's pulsating emotions echoed out inside of her again, signaling her -together with the ever-so-slight rubbing of the poetess' thighs against each other- that for as embarrassed and nervous as she might've been, she could barely wait any longer either, tearing at Nymphaea's own self-control at the same time.

And so Nymphaea grabbed that white garment and pulled it down, down, along her thighs, to the knees, past the calves, all the way to the ankles, to those shoes they had completely forgotten to remove, and then past those as well, leaving the underwear lying on the sheets, noticing but not mentioning the wet stain on its inner side.

"It's unfair of me to say this" Horla spoke up as Nymphaea spread her legs apart, sitting on her knees between them, her touch slow and careful "But I believe a part of me is... relieved that I cannot be seen from the chin down... "

"Horla" she replied as she crouched down, softly tapping on Horla's skin with her fingers to be more certain of where to touch "I believe I have enough knowledge and imagination to compensate for the lack of visuals. And I truly am not bothered either way"

"If you truly believe so... ho-hold on for a moment" she added, pushing herself up on her elbows as best as she could to take a better look at Nymphaea "What are you doing?"

"I meant to savor you?" Nymphaea replied, her mouth much closer to Horla's nethers than the poetess had ever dared to imagine, so much so she could almost feel the cool breeze of her breath on her hot, damp sex.

Although perhaps that was actually just Horla's own mind playing a trick on her.

"Are you not familiar with such an act?" Nymphaea inquired, her worries about the effects of her own touch on Horla since long silenced by Horla's own outflowing emotions.

"Not... not personally, although I have... read of it at times... " Horla replied, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red and slightly translucent at the same time "But is that... are you... I have... not taken a bath... "

"The most intense fragrance I can smell from here is that of roses wet with morning dew"

The flower that was Horla's left eye shrunk on itself a little bit, retreating back into its socket and letting her open her human eye again. They simply stared at each other in silence for a moment, two, ten, a silent exchange which conveyed much in its lack of warnings, of requests.

Then Nymphaea grabbed Horla's thighs, near the groin, and used them as leverage to lift Horla's hips up a bit before proceeding to make an use she would've never expected of bits of the anatomical knowledge she had gained from studying under Francis to better help her treating the Sanatorium's patients. She spurred herself on, forcing herself to not linger on such memories, not at such a time, and leaned further forward and down with her face. There was an unmistakable scent of flesh, of arousal and desire, but she hadn't lied when she had told Horla what the most intense aroma she could smell was.

The first contact between her tongue and Horla's sex made the poetess jolt, a startled whimper escaping her lips as her hips bucked slightly on their own. Nymphaea tenderly pushed her tongue down, slowly tracing the outline of Horla's nethers, ever so slowly, almost excruciatingly so, not wanting to overwhelm the poetess with what was a new sensation both physically and emotionally, although the same thing could be said for Nymphaea herself. Adjusting her position on the sheets and her soft grip on Horla's thighs a little, Nymphaea kept tracing her cold tongue over the poetess' nethers, taking care to lap up her own saliva, not wanting it to make Horla's sex visible to any degree out of respect for her earlier words and, to some minor degree, for her own thrill.

"Nymphaea" Horla then spoke, her voice breathy and hot, her disheveled clothes partially outlining her chest as it moved up and down with every breath "Please"

"I'm sorry. I hadn't meant to keep you waiting"

Truthfully, Horla had expected Nymphaea to push her tongue past her folds, the same way one would with a finger or with... other tools, shall we say. And thus she found herself utterly unprepared when the soft, cold tongue reached for something else instead, poking a small, sensitive nub above her entrance and making her tremble, a not too soft, decidedly startled moan escaping her.

"Horla?" Nymphaea spoke, backing away ever so slightly and locking her gaze with the poetess' once again "Should I avoid that?"

Horla took a quick breath, then another, and Nymphaea found herself intrigued by the odd sight that their current position and Horla's nearly complete invisibility provided.

"J-just... I had not... braced myself for that... may I ask where... you took the idea from?"

"There are a few poems I could cite, all of which I am sure you are already familiar with to some degree" Nymphaea replied, and while she had spoken those words with Horla's profession and artistic interests in mind, the way the poetess' rose eye had shivered for a moment made her second-guess her chosen way of expressing herself "But it comes from a mixture of anatomical studies and a second-hand experience, in truth"

"Then I suppose this is not the best of moments to delve deeper into this specific matter" Horla said back, making an effort to not break eye contact.

"... I concur"

And so, without averting her gaze, Nymphaea lowered her mouth again, her by then slightly warm hands holding on to Horla's thighs with a modest amount of greed as she searched for the sensitive nub again, tenderly stroking it with her chilly tongue, the tingly sensation left by her saliva dwarfed by the intensity of the searing shiver which shot through Horla's entire body, making her voice leak out and her muscles twitch once again.

I believe her clitoris to be hidden beneath its hood Nymphaea found herself thinking as she slowly, carefully tended to Horla But attempting to pull it out would be... most foolish. For multiple reasons.

This is so... Horla thought, on the other hand, not quite capable of deciding whether the sight in front of her was indecent or, somehow, elegant ... is it because... I can't... see my own... bo... body... ? she wondered, even her thoughts interrupted by the pleasure shaking her from her core every time Nymphaea's tongue stroked her, the sensation of the air and of Nymphaea's saliva still clinging to her unusually protuding nipples adding a small and yet exceptional layer to the tender pleasure building up within her, coating another, smaller sensation and preventing her from taking notice of it.

And the fact that Nymphaea was refusing to turn her gaze away from her face made her incapable of averting her own gaze in turn, her hands reaching for the sheets and holding on tighter with every moan that escaped her lips, sounds sultrier than she'd have ever thought herself capable of spilling from her core and out into the air through her throat with every new caress that Nymphaea lovingly blessed her with.

Then, as that slow and tender touch continued, something appeared on Nymphaea's lips, a particular kind of glisten not her own, the sticky secretions of Horla's nethers beginning to regain visibility after a while of no longer being a part of her, a sight so embarrassing it made the poetess' entire body jolt and twitch.

The sheet binding her wrists grew taunt for more than just a moment, her hips shaking with more strength once, twice. Nymphaea, unaware of the true reason behind that, took it as a sign that Horla was nearing her orgasm, which was admittedly not wrong.

Horla could feel it too, a sensation new in its magnitude but not in its nature hastening her pulse, drawing sweat from her skin and a song as shameless as it was subdued from her lips. Her hands pulled again, her hips jolted, and she found an unexpected sense of freedom in that physical inability to get away, in that closeness which ensured her parchment, since long draped over them, would shelter her and Nymphaea both from the world rather than hide her from Nymphaea's gaze, those alluring, empty eyes which reflected nothing inviting her deep within them, a sea to get lost within.

"N-Nymphaea, I... "

In response, Nymphaea pushed a finger against her own lips, telling her that there was no need for words, not at that specific moment. And then she resumed her ministrations, maintaining the same loving, tender pace, the fire slowly stoked within Horla having grown into a burning pyre, searing any unnecessary thought away, gathering Horla's attention more and more, her senses growing focused until nothing but herself, that tongue and those eyes were left in her world, Nymphaea's grasp on her growing firmer in response to her twitching muscles.

Then came the last stroke of that cold, precious tongue, and the whole world turned into an exceptionally pale shade of blue for a moment. A sound Horla wouldn't find the courage to describe for a long, long time escaped her lips, a loud whisper, a shy moan that rippled through the air, reaching Nymphaea's ears together with a pulse of emotions which coated her in searing warmth, the poetess' body growing stiff as every muscle in her body tensed up, her eyelid falling and her rose eye curling up its petals, the blissful sensation of Nymphaea's tender grasp on her body grounding her in her room, in her bed, ensuring she wouldn't get lost in that brief, intense journey through the waves of the ocean. A cold, not entirely composed breath hit her pulsating nethers softly, the heat spreading from within her core to the tip of her fingers and toes abating slowly, cradling her in an embrace that left her short of breath, her chest moving up and down quickly, her lungs wanting for air.

Then she felt lukewarm skin on her inner thigh, both her eyes darting open to the sight of Nymphaea resting her cheek against Horla, her eyes close, letting herself be lulled by the heat of Horla's body and heart, an expression of relax and peace the poetess had hardly if ever seen on Nymphaea's face searing itself into her mind, her soft breathing returning to its usual, slower pace, the sight both soothing and embarrassing leaving Horla silent, helping her down the high she had just experienced even more tenderly than she had been guided towards it. She could feel an odd tingle lingering inside of her, or perhaps growing, one she wasn't familiar with, and there was something a little... unpleasant about that? How... how odd. But perhaps that was just her mind being a little overwhelmed at the moment.

Still, for as... appreciated as that moment of silence, of tender stillness was, needed even as far as Horla's pulsating heart was concerned, the poetess did believe she had an obligation to return the favor, even if she couldn't quite picture herself doing the exact same act Nymphaea had just performed on -for- her.

And actually, that wasn't right.

There was a sense of courteous reciprocity -as Horla tried to frame it inside her head- to it, yes, but she also just... wanted to feel Nymphaea more. To touch her, to caress her, even though spending the rest of the night like that would've been plenty blissful in its own right.

Her emotions radiated out again, unrestrained, reaching Nymphaea and giving her an hint of what Horla was thinking, her cheek rubbing softly against Horla's inner thigh a little more as she silently took in that sweet fragrance of damp rose which had also taken on a much more earthy, physical aroma as well.

Then she opened her eyes.

For a long, silent breath nothing happened. But Horla had never seen that expression on Nymphaea's face, she had never seen her eyes open so wide, her mouth hanging open slightly at a loss for words.

Nymphaea let out a sound. Not a sentence, not even a word, just a sound. It was closer to a bubbling noise even. Horla had never heard a drowning person scream, but that was precisely what that sudden, hoarse vocalization made her think of. Nymphaea pushed herself up without warning, startling Horla even more and reaching for the sheet, undoing the knots at her wrists and pulling her up by the shoulders with a concerned franticness which left the poetess at a loss.

"Horla, how do you feel?" Nymphaea asked, her words coated in a tense concern Horla had never heard before from her, her hands suddenly jolting back as if seared all of a sudden by the poetess' skin "Do you feel any pain? Numbness? Is your vision faltering? Your- "

"Nymphaea!" Horla nealy shouted, interrupting her in an attempt at calming her down and figuring out what exactly had happened "I-I'm fine, really! What's wrong?" she said back, reaching for her cheek.

Nymphaea, however, backed away a little.

"The petals of your eye, Horla. Some of them have turned dark. Black, nearly. The spots on your skin are... " she began to say, her words trailing off as Horla looked down at herself.

There was little to see, unsurprisingly, but what she did spot was not a good sight. Patches of dark purple were slowly appearing on her skin, fading and then appearing again, and that unpleasant sensation she had felt earlier hadn't subsided either. Quite the contrary, it was growing more intense, her rose eye twitching a little, shivers echoing from its roots all through Horla's body.

"Nymphaea" she called her again, a mild vertigo beginning to assault her.

"Horla, listen to me" she cut her off "You need seawater. It will cleanse it away. You have to hurry, I... I don't know how long it will take for the symptoms to appear. I shouldn't have touched you, Horla, I'm- "

"I'm fine" Horla said, interrupting Nymphaea in turn "I'm... I might not truly be fine" she bitterly corrected herself, color draining slightly from her face "I was scared to let things go unsaid for too long a second time, but maybe I... erred too far in the opposite direction instead" she said with a smile.

"... Horla, you truly should- "

Then Horla's body jolted, an unpleasant, choked sound coming from her throat as she suddenly bent over, her rose turning a dark shade of purple.

"Horla! Horla!"

... ... ...

... ...

...

---

Horla opened her eye slowly, a soft light prompting her to shield herself from its source, her arm answering sluggishly to her will. Something hard was behind her back, and beneath her, while warmth surrounded her from the neck down and- she was lying in a bathtub. It took her a while to realize that, and then a while longer to figure out where she was, her thoughts all tangled together, her limbs somewhat heavy, a mild pain lingering in parts of her which reminded her of the previous night -previous?- and a sharper one in the rose growing in place of her eye.

That wasn't her house, for starter. And it wasn't a bathroom either. She... kind of recognized that place, but that only made her all the more confused. All the odd trinkets lying around, the shelves filled to the brim with extravagant items of marvelous if not downright mysterious craft, the finely carved furniture. The bathtub she was lying in was tucked in a little corner, an heavy curtain with a breathtaking but also somewhat unsettling creature stitched into it to separate her from the rest of the store, filled to the brim and yet in perfect order.

"My" a familiar voice spoke from behind the curtain, just as a person Horla was rather well acquainted with walked in from the other side "You have woken up already, I see. Are you enjoying the bath?" Daffodil asked, a neutral smile on her face.

Horla instinctively moved to cover herself up with both arms, even though Daffodil had taken care to stay where she couldn't directly look at Horla due to all the items stashed atop a drawer placed between them.

The water outlined her body, after all, and it made her feel naked. More naked than she already was, that is.

"Lady Daffodil. What... happened? Where is Nymphaea?"

"Back to her Sanatorium, I believe. She paid for your treatment and left. I must say" she added, a small pause to breath from her pipe interrupting her words "This was a rather unusual transaction. Is the seawater to your liking?"

Horla looked down. Right, Nymphaea had said seawater would cleanse the poison away. But Rainy Town wasn't exactly close to the sea, so... Nymphaea must have taken her to Daffodil's store. It was close, much closer than the sea at last, and asked her for help. Thinking about it, they had once talked about Daffodil, if only briefly. Nymphaea knowing her too was not news to her, although the fact had admittedly slipped her mind up until then.

"I apologize, lady Daffodil. I'm sure keeping me here is not conductive to your business"

"Dear, mine is not the kind of store brimming with clients, you are well aware of it" she said back with a soft chuckle, perhaps meant to ease Horla's nervousness "Oh, and don't worry about the payment. Nymphaea took care of it, since she's the one who came to me with a request. You have nothing to fret about" she added, having heard Horla getting up from the tub "A simple payment for a simple job"

"This is not the sort of transaction you usually deal with"

"Not quite, no, but life is long and some variety is much needed from time to time"

"... perhaps. Thank you, lady Daffodil"

"You should lie back down, Horla. You took in quite a lot of poison"

"... why did I not notice until it was too late?" she asked as she sat back down, the dark bruises on her skin slowly fading, the water turning purple before regaining its pure translucency, the reflection of her rose eye showing a more healthy flower compared to when she had lost consciousness.

"Some plants react more slowly to poisons, I suppose, and when you were awoken you took on some of their properties. Although these are merely conjectures. Is that truly all you mean to ask?"

"... has... has Nymphaea said anything before leaving for Rye?"

Oh, so she wasn't going to ask what Nymphaea had to pay. What a good girl, Daffodil thought. That sort of stuff was a secret between client and trader. Not like she had lied earlier though, she had asked for something entirely inconsequential. Seawater was free, after all, and gathering it in quick time hadn't been difficult, if admittedly a most unexpected task.

"She apologized and nothing more, I fear. But seeing how I have a store in that town as well, I suppose I might get you there quickly once you have properly recovered. Consider it a small favor to a long-time customer of mine. It's been nearly two hundred years since your first purchase here, has it not?"

"It has. ... I thank you again, I know you have nothing to gain from this offering"

"Goodwill is a good of its own, Horla. But for now, lie down and rest. I'm sure I have a robe or two of your size at the ready for later" Daffodil concluded before walking back past the courtain, leaving Horla alone with her own thoughts, having decided to tell her at a later time how a large part of the town recounted having felt an odd but pleasant mood on that evening.

As for Horla, she wouldn't have particularly cared about it anyway at the moment. Things had gone... much better than she had hoped for. And catastrophically worse as well. Thinking about it, Nymphaea had most likely only gone that far with her... touching due to the influence of Horla's emotions. She was normally more cautious than that.

She had to apologize.

And do more than that as well.

She was already at Daffodil's store, so... perhaps she could ask for some advice too.

Her rose eye spread its petal. Nymphaea had accepted her poem after all, so... yes. Things would end well, one way or another. She would make sure of it. And if they truly couldn't touch without getting Horla poisoned, so be it.

She wouldn't let something like that get in their way again.