Lost and Found

{{ I assume this is the satellite navigational device? Who’s trying to track her down?! Or help her not get lost so easily?~ —that would be a really fun RP, but Dove has no idea that she was just given a trackable device probably with built-in maps and everything. lD }}

Dove blinked at the block of plastics and circuits in her hand, not having the slightest idea what this was for and only managing an indiscernible, “Uhhhh…”

There were lines and numbers on the screen, some sort of graph and what looked like… some sort of bizarre equation, with numbers and letters on the readout and a dozen or so buttons littered around the device. She tried reading the stickers on the back and sides, but all she gleaned were typical electronic hazard warnings and that this device complied with FCC regulations. “What… What is this for?” she asked at last, apologetic and confused, not nearly confident enough in her technical know-how to risk pressing a single button.

Dove’s eyes widened immediately - at first because somebody was giving her anything at all, because a child who spent her whole life convinced she’d be shunned could never imagine receiving gifts from a stranger… but then her eyes took in the rounded forms, and the soft petals, and the whorling pattern cradling the hops in extracentric blooms, the largest living petals she’d ever been able to see.

She’d seen the petals dried in her mother’s distilling jar, and she’d seen images of the flowers in storybooks. But she’d never seen a rose, up close, in real life, held carefully in her hands as a newborn child, or an ancient artifact so precious and worth preserving. The scent alone was heavenly, a delicate aroma wafting up towards her sensitive nose as she brushed the velvety petals gently, blinking as she tried to process this wonder and gratitude and shock.

Plants had meaning even on Azarath. And despite roses being rare, she knew well what they meant, what they signified. Romance - affection - appreciation. White, the color of purity. And also the color of hope.

“Th… Thank you,” she breathed out, brow crooking just the slightest bit in confusion and gratified shock so deep, surely it had to be a mistake.. “But… Why are you giving these to me? I… I haven’t done anything to deserve these…”

~*~

{{ Okay, who was psychic enough to know white roses would eventually mean so much to her? If anyone would like, I could write the post-Demise version of this - that is, after the fanfiction where white roses [mystically conjured or formed] are a gift from her beloved, who ended up dying in the struggle to save her. She’d be in tears, breathless and incoherent with shock and hesitantly-joyous disbelief, and it would be so hard to convince her this wasn’t some sign from his spirit, that somewhere, beyond, he really IS still alive… }}

{{…The crown for “things my character would never say to your face”? o.o Well this is interesting, I didn’t expect that to happen anonymously… 8O }}

Dove’s secret reactions to the anonymous beings crossing her path is always a hint of concern, confusion, and an instinct that they can’t ALL be the same person… yet even her most well-honed telepathic senses can’t place the mysterious messages with a coherent, individual identity. Her secret doubts include dread, uncertainty, sometimes even uncharacteristic suspicion: “You’re… strange. Featureless. Are you even human? Or a shapeshifter? I’ve been shadows like you before, in my visions - nightmares… You know things about me and I’m afraid you’ll tell EVERYONE. How do I know I can trust you when I can’t even guess your intentions…?”

Dove has never liked strangers, after all, but she dislikes unfamiliar and discomfortingly new situations even more. New unidentifiable people especially, and people/things she can’t place or understand even less. It FRIGHTENS her. And above all, she fears for her secrets being told.