Let’s Not [Obliterate]

She visited the remaining houses that same night, but found no further issues in any of them. Finally, after having seen and talked to every single person in the village, she returned to house number 56 in the morning hours.

The old woman answered, and seemed like she’d not gotten a lot of sleep. “Welcome back,” she said. “Thank you so much. I heard from the doctor. Nate is okay, he’s sleeping, he’ll stay in the resting bed at her place for a day, but it should all be well.”

“I’m sorry,” Theora said. 

The woman widened her eyes. For a second, confusion filled her face, but then she nodded. “He’ll be okay. Levelling is dangerous. That’s part of the deal.”

Theora said nothing. Just as she was about to leave, the woman raised her voice again. “I’ll make you another cup of tea. You didn’t get to drink the old one.”

“Do you still have it? The old one?”

“Ah— Yes. I forgot to clear it away. I was just so worried when you left.”

“I will have that one,” Theora said, “If you allow.”

Sinking down on the same chair, finally, after all these hours, the exhaustion and fatigue caught up to her. She felt it not in her muscles or her lungs, but in her heart and her mind. Existing was tiring. She made a mistake, and that mistake had almost cost someone’s life. Oh, how much she wanted to sleep.

Except, she couldn’t. Not yet. She’d stay awake until the System was reinstated, in case anyone came for help.

The tea was cold, but it tasted well. The brew time had been short. No bitterness, and yet, a full, sweet, and grassy flavour, like standing on a freshly scythed meadow. Being able to brew such amazing tea was truly nothing but a blessing — one that likely stemmed from a mountain of loving effort over a long time. And now, after what she’d done, Theora was somehow still allowed, still tolerated, to sit here, and cherish it.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. 

There was something else Theora needed to do, and she set out for it right after leaving house 56. It was unrelated to the System itself, and yet still connected to her mistake. Making her way through the garden towards the east side of the village, she came back to the flower shop she’d already visited a few hours earlier. Everything had been fine, but there was another reason for her to return.

“Oh, you are back!” the owner said, a black, tall man with dreadlocks and glasses, wearing a jersey that looked almost a little too cold for the weather.

“I said I would be,” Theora replied. Did she not seem dependable?

“It’s just a little early,” he chuckled. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

She felt like she hadn’t slept in years.

“Flower language,” Theora noted. “Such a thing exists, right?”

He looked a little surprised, but then started beaming. “You want to give someone a message through flowers?”

Theora nodded. “A sentence, if possible. An apology.”

“Oh! Hurt someone?” Oddly, his smile didn’t leave, but it still didn’t seem misplaced. He was immediately turning to his flowers, giving a thoughtful look while glancing over them.

“I hurt several people,” Theora responded, “but the flowers are for my companion.”

“Ah. Yes, yes. Well, flower language does exist. It was a fad a long time ago, people kept publishing books on how to arrange and read bouquets. It’s very regional and depends a lot on the book you use. I don’t know which one was the most popular here… You’re travellers, right? It might be hard to understand a message just from flowers if you’ve not learned the language. Unless the message is encoded through something like a Skill, of course.”

“So I can’t apologise?” Theora asked, and despite her monotonous voice, the dejection was immediately apparent.

The owner laughed. “I think if you hurt that person and turn up with a bouquet of flowers the next day, the intent should be clear enough. Just put your heart into it while choosing the flowers, and it should work. I believe that your voice will be carried through your choices.”

“I see,” Theora responded. “Please, do criticise my picks if it somehow ends up spelling out a death wish to her in regional flower language.”

He burst out, harder than before. “Of course I will! No worries.”

And with that, Theora deliberately went over every single flower and plant in the shop, and made her deliberations on how to fill her bouquet.

It was a lovely place. The flowers were all arranged by colour. Outside stood a few ones resistant to the cold weather, and inside, they were aligned in a rainbow, with white ones to the left, and black ones to the right. To Theora, Dema’s main colours were white, black, red, and amber. However, she didn’t want to give her a bouquet that looked simply like her. 

Theora’s favourite colour was blue.

How did this all mesh?

The bouquet she eventually ended up with was a mix of tulips and roses, all white. A very simple spray of flowers, but Theora was not good at expressing herself, and this was the best she could do. In a vague and abstract way she couldn’t put into words, it did look exactly like what she wanted to say. Whether these feelings would be carried to the recipient, she wasn’t so sure.

She hadn’t shut down the System out of mistrust towards Dema. Maybe, one could argue that mistrust may have actually been in order due to Dema being the Ancient Evil, but that really didn’t matter here at all. If Theora thought Dema was truly evil, then she should simply kill her, not go on journeys together and look at the pretty rocks the girl found. She couldn’t have it both ways; as long as Dema was alive, she needed to treat her properly.

Even though she hadn’t meant to, she’d hurt her, so a few flowers were the least she could do.

Leaving the flower shop, Theora couldn’t help but wonder. During all this time she’d been gone, what had Dema been up to? She just hoped she’d found a few nice people to talk to, and been able to have fun.