[Not that he's ever had an entire world to oversee, but he's had plenty of kids under his wings. He supposes it can't be that far away. There's just something about raising kids.]
[he will guide bradley to the base of it, even as his hand reaches out to let sakura blossoms fall down onto his waiting palm]
In the language of flowers... they symbolize the transience of life. How lovely they bloom, and inevitably they fall. The reminder that all beauty too will come to an end.
And yet people will gather every Spring to witness them - to know that the loveliness is in the blooming, regardless of length.
[He looks at the flowers falling down and thinks about the sages he's had in his life. They're all human, and they'll all die centuries before he'll meet his end.]
It'll come back. Not like the tree itself is gonna die.
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'cause it's where you were hangin' out before?
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It is a world that the young one and I oversaw, after all.
I suppose some parts of it are still in the image of my home, my Citadel.
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[Not that he's ever had an entire world to oversee, but he's had plenty of kids under his wings. He supposes it can't be that far away. There's just something about raising kids.]
Yeah? Wanna show it to me?
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[and he'll start to guide bradley around - they're probably somewhere near the giant sakura tree, which mikazuki will gesture to]
With all this talk of trees and flowers, I feel as though I wish to share my own favorite.
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Is that the cherry blossoms?
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[he will guide bradley to the base of it, even as his hand reaches out to let sakura blossoms fall down onto his waiting palm]
In the language of flowers... they symbolize the transience of life. How lovely they bloom, and inevitably they fall. The reminder that all beauty too will come to an end.
And yet people will gather every Spring to witness them - to know that the loveliness is in the blooming, regardless of length.
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It'll come back. Not like the tree itself is gonna die.
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Mm, it will. In the end... more things repeat than they manage to be unique.
And yet at the same time, there is so rarely ever any true copy.
Such is the juxtaposition of living.