Firefly

Solanaceae ambles through the humid greenhouse, admiring the brightly-colored flowers that are Esoterra's handiwork. She stops at her section: psychoactive nightshades. Though Terra tends to these as well, their flowering and growth is more heavily based upon Solan's attitude and well-being than soil quality or sunlight. She puts a finger to the washed out lavender petals of a devil's trumpet. Almost all parts of the plant are poisonous—enough for a high, hallucinations, or death depending on how much is consumed.

 

She looks past the nightshades and smirks at the nocturnal daylilies surrounding them. They are all in shades of crimson, Tyrian purple, violet, plum, or magenta with various colors on the throat, midribs, and edges. The metaphor is not lost on her—the daylily is the flower of coquetry because they open up briefly during the morning or late afternoon and close roughly twelve hours later. Like a coquette, they have no intention of sticking around.

 

She hears the sound of swirling water interrupt the active babbling of the fountain in the garden outside and sees she is not alone. Nymphaea sits on the side of the fountain, pale blonde hair untied and spilling down her back. Solan slowly opens the other greenhouse door and walks to her fellow Luminary. "Do you want to talk about it?"

 

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