merciful, fragmented, oh dearest autumn moon.
the promised star; beloved by life and by love.
this flower has wilted long before it bloomed;
And the garden too, will be gone before long.
Was I, !at?le#a, the same?
the falsehoods were real,
all iniquities were real;
but most painfully,
our love was real too.
no matter which is which,
i hope that in the end; you will always still be you.
you will forevermore be yourself.
never fallacate on such.
afterall, you've reached me.
so please.
if only... i can see you smile again.
Farewell, To you, my dear Æne.
—
It has been so, so, so long, and yet I can still hear your voice as clearly as it was just yesterday.
It pains me deeply, haunted by the vestiges of a memory, of a voice that I cannot remember. Such contradictions, something normally unallowed by time itself.
Will you have remembered me the same, were it you be the one in my place?
Or will you have gone and changed along with the world that moves without waiting for those who tread upon it.
I have held on to this memento of ours, Encased inside the tears of Ironwood Amber. The very same one that was gifted to both of us during the first Rites and the first Moonfall Banquet.
Today, the 4th of the 2nd month of Autumn far into the future from whence we came from. I stand amongst ears of wheat. A golden sea under an ocean of clear blue. A day non too dissimilar to the ones I do remember.
I have come to these fields, of words of a Harvest Festival soon to be celebrated. An honour to tradition that came to be... Because of a "me" that I, myself do not remember.
I come to know of these due to murmurs, rumours of someone who once spoke to fauna as if they were living people.
Now here I stand, to find clues of what and who I was during the past 2 seasons of life, and to record this season so that Winter does not feel cold and empty whenever it comes.
「We're close, our small yet long journey is nearing it's end. I can feel it.」
Small yet long, Quite contradictory but still too accurately apt for what it was.
「Will you be fine? The cycling of the world does not bode well to the ones who guard its sanctities, especially to you and your fellow companions.」
"Whether it does or does not bode me and my companions is the problem yet to arrive. The world does what it wants whenever the ones who tread upon it agree or not." I whispered.
"From the beginning, We are bearers of a curse. One that forces us to watch the events that is to be, one that people would call "Fate", "Destiny" or "Providence". Mine is to write the new meanings to the flowers that give many people their meaning, purpose or drive."
「Ignobility at it's finest. Well then, Garderner. I hope you find She who has wilted.」
"I myself hope, That once before the seasons end. I approach the truth of the one who bore me this curse."
「A curse, presumably it is afterall, akin one."
—
Long before one is born.
One is already implanted with what they will be;
Answers to the decisions they have yet to do, have already been chosen.
—The Library holds the events that is to be followed by them.
As fated like the storybooks.
Relations they have yet to start and end, have already been written.
—The Garden blooms a flower that is to signify how comedic or tragic they will grow.
Providence for the life that was to come by the flowers that wilted.
But, What they do have is the ability change that.
—And the Foundry who forges the will of the one to be born, To determine how much they will follow what is predestined.
For Destiny is one that is in the hands of the one who is alive.
And unlike what my name suggests, I am not the one responsible for the Garden. Only for the meanings of the flowers that bloom to represent people.