Ravenbell requested "Aya: Roses are red." Which led my brain straight to one place. Follow-up to my story In the Garden of Morpheus.

One tiger lily, one orchid, and one dark red rose between, bound together with twine. Aya stares, glad for once that schoolgirls fill the shop, distracting his teammates, who'd wonder why he'd made the arrangement. Omi might chide him that they'd die faster, so tied, eyes earnest, worried, too sharp by half.

It's been three nights since the dream. Three nights since any dream, which is odd in itself. And now this, a blank few minutes, an arrangement no one ordered.

It's for you.

His hand tightens, and a thorn jabs him. He forgot to strip the rose.

Allow us.

~END~