663. Sparks of Mouth-Watering Melancholy

663. Sparks of Mouth-Watering Melancholy

Respite Village was the name of Cer’s home. Past the abandoned Royal Observatory of Puritas, and the woodlands at the base of the minor mountain ranges, sat the entrance of a long-forgotten sanctuary.

It was a self-sufficient village that rarely interacted with the outside world and was coupled with multiple Sanctuaries like itself scattered across the coast. Despite being controlled by Puritas, they possessed autonomy so long as it did not affect the inevitable harvesting of their denizens.

Living in a Sanctuary was to live a lie. Village life was lax and free. But it was no different from allowing a livestock to roam beyond their cage and close one’s eyes to the fences and swords that awaited them beyond.

It was blissful ignorance. To learn that the cage was only larger was bound to cause one’s world to collapse. So Puritas allowed them to visit neighboring towns and settlements controlled by them to continue selling that illusion.

Cer remembered how much trouble she used to find herself in. She eased Frost into the realm of her deepest memories, leading the way with her hands held behind her back, and her chin raised to the skies.

The orange glow of the setting sun painted the world in a warm light, a shadow of the past stalking Cer wherever she walked.

“I used to steal food all the time. It wasn’t like we were short on anything. But some of us needed to eat. Namely just Ber and I.”

Cer took Frost down on a trip through a field of floral-scented memories.

Rotting homes overgrown by vegetation stuck out like warts on an expansive meadow. Hills covered in flowers ran from the village all the way to the very edges of the trees afar, the emerald trees on one side, and the sapphire ocean on the other.

The vague outline of the distant continent of Zelmori could be seen from her, as well as the endless expanse of the ocean beyond its forlorn lands. Frost and Cer remained silent. Only the scrunching of the flowers and the soft rustles of leaves filled the somber air, never too loudly as though nature offered its respect to what was lost in this place.

Dahlias, roses, and broken thorns scattered the meadow.

Cer then plucked blue dahlia, perfectly matching the color of her sapphire hairclip.

“Did you know that all Sanctuaries have what they call a Gardener? My mom was like that. She wasn’t the best Gardener. Not all flowers belonged in her field.” The liveliness in Cer’s eyes was replaced with a soft, gentle glow.

The Interrogating Clock revealed the razing of these fields. Flames surrounded the present Cer and licked the skies as they all returned to ashes. And yet, the flowers returned, stronger and more beautiful than ever before.

Cer placed the flower down and pushed aside a patch of roses. Beneath was a shallow pond, and within she found a blue lotus flower tucked away and starved of the sunlight.

Its petals shivered, and the water shimmered with Cer’s presence.

“Mom loved flowers. But only the ones that she could see. Recognize. Remember. Despite that, and I won’t make it anymore cryptic, but I strove to survive like this little lotus.”

She did not pluck the flower and smiled at Frost through her reflection in the small pool. Not a single ripple distorted her image. Those eyes were an invitation for Frost to join her. Soft scrunches caused Cer’s ears to softly twitch.

“Where others steal rainwater, the lotus will find its own. Where there was no sunlight, it will strive to make the most of it. Lotuses grow in muddy waters where other flowers can’t. It’s a weird flower. It hides underwater when the moon rises, and blossoms when the sun is out. Nothing like me, cause I’m still chasing after the moon. But... no, it’s a lot like me. I just haven’t blossomed yet, so it’s not easy to tell what kind of flower I am, or what mom thought of me.”

“Attention.”

“... is that really it?”

“I don’t know what else want me to say. It all boils down to that. My loneliness. The way mom set me aside. How Raoul’s distanced himself from us. Getting into trouble and wanting to be ‘eaten’ go hand in hand with attention. It’s why I’m a Jester. I’m not looking to be liked. Contrary, I try too hard to be disliked. I just want someone to eat away the shells and see me for what I am. Which you’re doing right now.”

“So by eat, you really mean you wanted someone to love you?”

“It’s not that simple. I think I can show you a better picture. You can boil it down further to wanting something I lacked. You know how needy children are. How much they’ll cry and shout for attention. I never got any of that. And like I said... It’s not that simple either.”

Cer was reluctant to say this out loud. The depths of her signature ‘eat me’ Cer Syndrome carried a darker secret. Yet she did not want to hide it, and it was a past of hers that served as a chain.

As the blue glow of the moon rose across the sea the stars steadily came into view. Cer looked up at the bright half-moon and whispered:

“I want to be the best Moon that ever was. But the stubborn me is also carrying chains that stop me from chasing after it. Who knows. Maybe I really just want you to eat those chains for me.”

She strode through the meadow, and miraculously avoided trampling on a single flower.

“But I’d prefer it if I did that myself. Come. Further ahead is where I used to call home. We’ll be able to find Ber’s lake there as well.”

The Nex that radiated from Cer’s body intensified, as Nav noticed.

< Cer’s Emotional State has risen beyond doubt >

< Please tread carefully >

At the same time, Frost saw the golden light in Cer’s chest flickered.

She did not know if it had intensified or –

– If was on the brink of burning out like a candleflame.