petals & perils | bobby & cecily

Spring has arrived late to Five.

The ground is damp and thick with mud, the concrete streets appearing black beneath the thawing ice — but there are flowers rising through the cracks, fresh leaves clinging to the branches of thin trees. Cecily only acknowledges the scenery with a passing glance, returning her gaze to the book perched on her lap. The seasons do not amuse her; they are always the same. Nothing about them ever really changes.

She feels most content when studying at the library, surrounded by the knowledge that she has yet to learn — names and places and reasons. That's not to say any of it ever draws a serious reaction from her, but that's just a personal choice. She doesn't like to wear her heart on her sleeve, to share every thought running through her mind. They belong to her for a reason; and even then, why must everything be so loud?

It's better in the quiet, when she's alone with herself and the low hiss of wind — but then she notices another figure standing in the distance, curling a finger against the page she's reading so that she doesn't lose her place. "Are you looking at the wildflowers?" She nods in their direction, the drooping plants and their pale colours. They are not beautiful, not to her. "Do you know their real names? Do you know which of them has fully bloomed?"

Her voice is smooth and sharp, her tone never lilting.

"If you're going to visit the library,
you should walk away having learned something."