Chapter 6, in the garden — V's POV (Patreon)

No one has ever done that. In all their hundred years of living, no one has made them a flower crown and put it on their head. Vezriel finds that they like it much more than their normal red crown. That one, heavy and cold, reminds them of blood. This one is light and bright—something that doesn’t suit them at all, and yet they want to keep it.

So they put it back on and smile at [Oracle]. “You should make one for yourself too.”

“It’s not my thing. It suits you more.”

Does it? They can’t see it. It would suit [Oracle] so much more.

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