Who: Zanna & Byron What: Looking, not touching. Where: outside Verbena When: May 11, early evening Warnings: NSFW.
The Cirque hadn't been open for long that evening, but the crowd was good. It was still early enough for parents to have their children there, leading them by the hand along the Midway. There were crowds of them around the Carousel and the Ferris Wheel, teenagers standing in slouchy groups, smaller children with their chaperones – babysitters, Zanna figured, or older siblings.
These groups of children were usually only observed from afar; they were infrequent guests in her little shop. Thankfully. Mothers tended to think that little hands would break things, and Zanna thought this was for the best generally. It was safe to watch them from a distance, safe to admire their glowing cheeks and the braids that only mothers could do properly.
A little girl with her father walked by, sobbing as she was tugged by the hand. No more than four, with chubby cheeks and her bottom lip thrust out, tears staining her face. The Fae frowned and stepped forward – not to touch. Never to touch. Instead, she held out a flower bud on a stem, lovely, but closed. The adult barely seemed to see her, the dark-haired woman kneeling close to his child. He was looking elsewhere, scanning the tents. But the little girl was looking, wide blue eyes focused on the perfect green bud. Smiling, Zanna pursed her lips, blowing gently. In the next moment, the flower bloomed all at once, a perfect lily spreading its petals, unfurling.
The closest she came to the child was a deft movement that tucked the lily behind the small ear, a gentle brush of her fingers to wipe one wet cheek. Then she stepped back, as she always stepped back, despite the pang of loss that she felt.