"Why is a flower so complicated?..." Taint queries, her eyes perched upon a flower, a bumblebee edging its way across the nectar and pollens with its little feet that weren't all they seemed. Little yellows upon its legs, sacks full of...what?

Tilt of the head, I wonder why...how, I mean...what do they carry it in? She looks offendedly at the little bug, an eyebrow raised in her mind. You have no sack, no web, nothing holding it in...maybe if I look more closely... Taint peered closer to the little bumblebee, and it flew away. "Pah," she said, "Bumblebugs...mmmphhhrrr..." Her gaze settles upon the stem of the flower once more.

The dew of the evening had settled upon the stem in little pockets, much like the bumblebug of early. "Tell me, little bumblebug's keeper..." she spoke to the flower, inquisitive, sly, "...why does the dew still stick to your stem?" Taking one hoove, she gently touched at the side of the flower. The fireflies shined, and it didn't do much good, Taint had more of a human's eyesight. But then, she saw the strangest thing. Little spikes, holding the little water bubblies in place. "Is that so...?"

How could this be...? she thought, and shook her head, cringing her nose at the sting of the icy night. The querious forest did not beg to differ at the difference between a night in the cold and that in the warmth. The flowers kept warm in the frostbitten cold, and so did the precious little snow that ever doth fell upon it. It was pointless for her to query any longer.

"How can you ask questions in a world made of questioning..." She stood tall, looking off into the distance at the single set of stars in this false world full of false beliefs of hers. She stared, full of something that could only be thought of as...insecurity.

She stepped off, the dirt of the flower being dug up slightly by a simple foot scraping, only to be towed back to place by the magical ways of the forest. Nothing seemed right in the forest, to her. She knew only far too well that she didn't, doesn't, belong in here.

You know you don't either, Plume...she spoke aloud, under her breath, or so she thought...you don't either...

---
---
---
---
---

Feeling very philosophical all-of-a-sudden, which is a relief. Because the sadness of the depression wasn't very pleasant, and it's a relief when I'm able to feel like this. I don't know, it's confusing. Blah blah blah tartar sauce. Enjoy it while it lasts...

...for the turtles shall steal it all...