- peace in havok
- Power and anger have gone hand in hand for Hazel her entire life, as has trust and heart. Hazel is bright as the sun and delicate as a flower. But the sun burns hot, and roses grow thrones.
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— may —
May 1st, 2019 Titans Tower Day Thirty-Five
SUN POURED INTO HAZEL'S ROOM, THE SUN RAYS CREATING RAINBOW SHAPES FROM THE SUN STICKERS. Carefully, Hazel placed the pot of lavender on the small coffee table, the pot making a crunching sound as it glided on the glass surface.
Hazel pushed and kicked the large pillows and beanbags away from the table. The heavy, velvety fabric blanket was tossed aside with them. As the pillows and blankets were pushed away, the cool wood floor beneath was revealed, its polished surface reflecting the sun. Hazel, undeterred by the chill seeping through her clothes, settled onto the cold wooden floor with a nervous breath.
The plants, once confined to the bedhead had spread over the room like artwork. Bluebells and silver falls cascaded gracefully from the ceiling, their delicate tendrils swaying gently as the small desk fan blew cold air through the room. Vines adorned with orange, red and pink roses and dahlias grew across the walls, weaving through the sturdy bookshelves like nature's own bookmarks. Some of the thicker vines served as organic pillars, cradling floating shelves that hosted an array of photos and small wooden carvings.
The lush vines embraced the bookshelves, forming organic frames around horror and fantasy novels. In one corner, a desk had been set up to hold all of her musical interests. Sheet music, neatly organized, found a home on vines weaved like music stands.
A second desk, adorned with the marks of Hazel's failed carving skills, cradled a half-carved guitar, a work in progress frozen in time. The grains of the wood had yet to be sanded, and wood shavings scattered the table.
Hazel ran her hands down her face and stared at the lavender flower. Hazel pushed her power towards the flowers, the petals shifting. "Terran," Hazel called, her eyes glowing bright green. "Talk to me. Please." The lavender plants rustled but did nothing more.
Hazel's sigh carried the weight of a heavy disappointment, the sound hanging in the air. Her head dropped, the disappointment carrying through her. With lazy movements, she rose from her seat, cradling the pot of lavender in her hands as if at any moment Terran would speak to her.
Reaching for the shelf above her desk, Hazel carefully placed the pot amidst a collection of curated memories. Her fingers, gentle as a whisper, grazed the lavender petals, scared the petals would break off. Her gaze drifted to a photo framed in pristine white, a quick photo Hazel's mother had taken of Hazel and Rachel's joy at a small carnival, their smiles wide as they held up their prizes.
The memory of their fight just days earlier bubbled to the surface, and in an attempt to ease her anger, Hazel gripped the edges of the desk. Tension coiled in her muscles before and without a thought she threw the fragile piece away from her, the flimsy wood snapping as it collided with the floor. The sharp sound of the impact reverberated through the room.
