Wind was whistling in Rose’s ears as the sense of disbelief began to wear him out and all whilst it itself started to wear out.

The man was still carrying him. Rose couldn’t see anything but he could tell that the man kept jumping at a random intervals, but it mostly felt like he was going in one direction. Was he jumping between rooftops?

Rose didn’t know anything. He guessed, from what he heard, that the man’s name must be Vein, but he heard a lot of things he didn’t understand.

“Uh… Vein can you let me go?”

Rose’s voice cut through the sound of sailing wind, that bitter symphony that which flourished endlessly, without recompense nor change. Then man didn’t correct him so he guess that was his name.

“ok”

The sound of whiplash continued to ring in Rose’s ears even after he stopped.

“You know you should’ve let me know you woke up, you were like a ragdoll. I could hardly tell you were alive”

Vein put down Rose on his feet, and for a second Rose stood on his feet before he feel down on him butt.

Rose was sitting on the roof of a rather large building, mostly like a house, probably the type that housed too many families. He was to the far northwest of Darrowtown based on the unfamiliarity of the surroundings and the enormous aqueduct that dominated the skyline in front of him.

The sky was filled with stars, a sight that also told him how long it had been they have been moving away from where he was, and how long it would take for him to go back home. However, his family would not

“I didn’t pass out” Rose spoke suddenly.

“Oh”

And like that a blanket of awkwardness lay upon them. Vein seemed uncomfortable as he stood there.

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After waiting for a good minute Vein finally said something “I apologise, roping you in like that. You should’ve ran away immediately when you saw the fight… but if you need a favour, you can find me there” he pointed at the aqueduct in the distance.

“[Vein]”

Then he turned and launched himself towards the next rooftop.

Rose watched him jump between buildings, he was half curious to see how the guy would climb the aqueduct and half delirious, but when the man disappeared from his line of sight into the jungle of building ahead, Rose managed to find the energy to pull himself up. He was tired.

He was lucky the house had a balcony. Rose jumped down landing on mostly clothes which softened his fall and, without considering breaking into the house to walk down, jumped down again to the protest of the bones in the lower half of his body.

And so Rose walked, he walked in the opposite direction to where vein was going and he walked to the latter half of the main street and he walked home. And walked past his home, Rose believed it was the first he would not have slept there. He didn’t care. He walked to his hideout and he pulled the plank of wood he used as a door and planted his head on sandy floorboards.

An action which left his back burning and his face dusty by the time morning rays sneaked past the hole in the roof.

He reckoned he probably slept for about four hours, but he wasn’t tired. Rose felt a turmoil within him.

What did he experience the night before?

It was extraordinary. It was terrifying. He could not describe why he was shivering when he awoke, but for Rose, it was something familiar.

Rose picked pushed himself off the floor to find himself surrounded by a variety of potted plants. An assortment that took Rose much effort to find and cultivate. A sight that would make anyone proud when they saw the desert that existed outside.

Rose supposed it was kind of like a game to him, collecting his plants and expanding his little greenhouse, but what did it matter?

No.

It didn’t matter, but it was his passion.

What else mattered to him?

Fixings buildings, like how his father does and how his brother pretends to do.

Becoming a merchant like how his mother once told him she’d rather he do.

Rose supposed he had nothing else in his life.

Getting up, Rose walked towards his plants. He stood before a Rose, and there it stood before him, beautifully, defiantly as if to speak of its own worth.

Rose focused on the Rose, encompassing his whole perception on it.

“[Rose]”

It came out rough and his throat hurt, but the invocation was spoken intact and another stem began to grow from the side of the Rose ending with another flower of red, a twin Rose. Rose put his fingers in between the thorns, still cutting himself and pulled the newly-born Rose from its mothers grasp.

Rose remembered how Vein propelled himself between buildings with a single mention of his name and how the golden armoured man invoked something much more than his name.

There seemed to be a bit of a disparity.