«What is your favourite flower?»
Of all the things Melowen was ever asked about...
Weapon, countless times.
Armour, fighting style, saddle, beverage, food.
She felt a woman all of a sudden, after so many years of being a warrior. And only a warrior. She never thought of such a thing like a favourite flower, but, surprised by herself, Melowen realized she already knew the answer. It was already there, in her mind.
«The poppy»
She smiled, faintly.
«Alone, it is not so pretty: fierce in colour, the poppy is however shaggy, somewhat asymmetric, ruffled. Yet, when in the field, together with its companions, dotting the fair crops in bright red and moving in the wind, it's a magnificent sight to behold.»
Haedley smiled at her, nodding. Somehow, he had already understood.
Vincent van Gogh - Field of poppies
