The Prologue

In dedication to my dear sister, Mireiya Valimont.

Falling... Falling... Falling...

Drifting on an invisible current was this, simply complex object with frail makeup of a pink beauty. It felt the Sun on its surface, warm rays all about, pouring into the morning from the open sky. It felt the pleasantry of just being, floating, drifting, falling. And there were others, just the same, the same same all in all, pink, soft, and falling.

Falling... Falling... Falling...

The wind was here, curling into a twist, a gentle tug circling, it with the others, dancing petals in the air. Down below the ground was nearing, small buildings growing visible as the school of petals came fluttering ever so slowly. All around were the sounds of a far and distant war, faint, but present all the more, as if the very land had died. A hole. A whole hole of large was where it was going, grey and old with wooden scaffolds long and abandoned. Very visible were the rays of Sun spilling into this hole, as if to mark the path of entrance to the delicates, and it is there they entered.

Dancing... Dancing... Dancing...

It saw for there it was, the destination, a palette of its own relatives, its family. There a gentle bed of cherry blossoms blossomed in the radiance of sunlight, radiance themselves in their own way, filling the air with a sweet fragrance that meant all the world to noses. In this bed, another delicate, pink as well, but not quite the same. It was laiden as if it itself had fallen smoothly in a guided path, and was now safe in their arms. Here it fell on this creature, on top of something smooth, almost as smooth as its own material, but not quite, though it felt the warmth of the being, warm and silken. A stilling pleasantness.

The Sun, coupled with the connection of this own, was success, a lifting success of empathetic tenderness, and it had, the very temptation rising, the urge to tickle this being, in mischief, in play, as one may do to the loved one. With help of the breezing air, it did just that, ever so slightly swaying against in a subtle caress of two skins who meet, delighting in the touch. Wild wonder became as two long lash'd lids slowly made their drowsing wake, the apparent reaction to this action of this petal. Bright light in the midst of white, twin lanterns peering skyward were revealed.

And the whole thing, garmented in pink and all, was rising...