A rainbow of colors covered the canvas before her as she glided forward among the beauteous flowers surrounding her. Roses, that's what they called them, but to her they were a vision of unsurpassed beauty. Untended, the thorny vines grew wild, spread about here and there, forming a sort of barrier that would keep the larger creatures out, but made a warm and dry nest for the smaller critters of the garden. To her the vines posed no threat, so she had no fear of walking too close or getting entangled in their branches. The roses grew in vast array across the tops of these wildly growing vines, in a multitude of colors so beautiful, one could only ponder how they had gotten there. Different shades of red, white, orange, yellow, blue, purple, pink, yes even silver and black, she'd found. Butterflies played among the flowers, and bumblebees busied themselves collecting pollen. If one looked close enough, they could see the ladybugs and aphids covering the branches and some of the flowers. Upon the ground, ants busied themselves collecting food to take to their queen.

The vines did split, forming a trail of sorts as a velvety green grass formed the banks of a small river that flowed through the garden. Among the velvety green grass, wildflowers bloomed, sprinkling the path with patches of color here and there. Many times she had followed the trail upstream to gaze upon the array of waterfalls cascading down into the river in tiers. If she were to stand close enough, she would feel the misty spray bounce up at her as the cascading water hit the rocks below. On other occasions she had followed the trail downstream, where a small lake had formed. At one end of the lake was a large patch of cattails, home to insects and frogs, blowing in the breeze. In the center of the lake was a small island, a single large willow, ancient, standing tall upon it. Hanging from a branch in the willow, ropes that had been formed from vines attached to a bark covered log, formed a swing.

More willows lined the lake opposite the patch of cattails. All around the lake, at each end where the cattails ended, grew a soft velvety green grass and more wildflowers, the same that bordered the river. At the far end of the lake, under a willow, sat an ornate marble table and two benches to match, one on each side. The table and benches had begun to wear, small bits crumbling off here and there, from years of exposure to the sun and weather. Dragonflies and insects flew all around the lake, creating a soft hum that could lull one to sleep. This was her garden, the place she had come to love and call her own. She called it simply, the Rose Garden.

She had been what they called a late bloomer, for she had not found her voice for quite some time. Some had said she would never find her voice. Those more confident spirits had said, "Give her time." They had been right. When she did finally find her voice, it came out soft and gentle, like the chime of a harp as it played a lullaby. She was shy at first, speaking only when spoken to, but in time she'd learned to be independent, and her voice grew stronger. It was not the strongest voice in the gardens, but it was strong, nonetheless, stronger than most. Those whose voices were the strongest all had names, and so she called herself Rosebud. What more fitting name for one who lived within a rose garden.

Knowing only that she existed, she did not remember when she had come to be. At first she had only observed, spending her time watching the little critters as they scampered about the gardens, the butterflies and insects buzzing busily and playing around. Having a deep desire for adventure, she had spent her time moving through a number of gardens, exploring every nook and cranny, and so early on she had discovered the Llithe and Whisperers. She had watched and observed them in silence, learning all she could about them. She had seen that they like riddles, but she was not good in finding the answers. She had seen also that they liked music and stories, and so Rosebud had spent her time developing her skills as a poet and storyteller. Some she would tell through her music, her voice lilting and uplifting, most she would just tell with words, drawing her audience in with the inflections and emotions of her voice. She had come to love to tell stories and recite poetry, so could tell them with the greatest of ease.

On this day in her rose garden, a feeling that something exciting was about to happen had come over her. She'd wandered through the garden, gliding about, her thin wisp of a figure undetectable by most, to see if she could find what it was that was exciting her. Finding nothing unusual, she glided downstream to the lake, and sitting on a branch of the willow, above the marble table, she began to recite a poem:

As I walk within my gardens,
a delight as you may see,
a myriad of roses and
flowers sets me free.

Among the wild grasses,
the critters do run wild,
a squirrel here, a rabbit there,
drink from a spring so mild.

It's here within my garden,
a single yellow rose,
surrounded by the thorny bush,
a gentle breeze blows.

The yellow rose begins to bud,
the color of the petals,
unfurl, open radiantly,
and then it's fragrance settles.

It's the last flower of the summer,
a bright and vibrant bloom.
An unexpected late bloomer,
which decorates my 'room'.

Symbollizing friendship,
and caring so they say,
The yellow rose awaits me,
in it's wildest array.

It fills my mind with gladness,
my heart with pure joy,
it's beauty doeth surround me,
a bouquet I can enjoy.

It's here among my garden,
a delight as you may see,
it's here that you will find us,
the yellow rose and me.

The Yellow Rose and Me, written by Joan aka Fiziali
Please do not use without my consent

When she had finished reciting her poem, she glided down to the lake where the thorny vines of the rosebushes merged with the willows, and watched the insects buzzing about. She sensed him before he had come into view, and she knew that it was time. The adventure was about to begin.

Kyrylo flew lower to land carefully on the island in the center of the rose garden. Feet touching the ground one at a time he thought about how far he had come from his first few days in the gardens with his many crash landings into the water. It was nice to be able to land somewhat gracefully more often then not. Taking the time to look around at the multitude of roses that stretched endlessly before him on the opposite shore of the lake, he marveled at the sheer number of flowers and the powerfully intoxicating aroma that permeated the air.

It had been a while since he had last explored any of the many gardens that branched off from the main ones. Pulling his pan pipe out for a moment he trilled a short tune before glancing around to see if there were any signs of movement. Since his meeting with Amaryllis he has expected more Spirits to make themselves known, and at each one he visited he would play a short part of her song that he had been practicing since their meeting to see if anything might respond. Deciding that he was more then likely too isolated on this island with only a large tree for company he launched himself into the air and flew purposefully towards a stand of cattails.

Splash

Muttering Kyrylo pulled the lower hem of his robe from the water and marched onto dryer land; things had been going so well and he had gotten over excited and careless once again when it came to landing. Grumbling to himself he wrung out the water before dropping the damp cloth to the ground to inspect a flower that several insects flocked about. He had seen roses before but for some reason these looked as if they were far superior to the wild things growing in some of the other garden. Almost as if a gentle hand guided them along in their growth. A small smile pulling at his lips he leaned forward to inhale deeply the flower before pulling a small knife from his pouch; Calliope would surely enjoy this flower as much as the other insects did, especially after they had argued.

As he cut the flower Kyrylo's ears caught the faintest sound. Biting back his excitement he waited patiently for the noise maker to make itself known.

Rosebud watched and smiled as Kyrylo landed on the island and stared at the beauty of the flowers just behind her. She'd observed him as he looked about as if expecting someone. She'd wondered, did he also share the excitement she felt that something wonderful were about to happen? She'd listened as he played the tune. It was a familiar tune, she'd heard it before in the House of the Eagles, the gathering place for the spirits. She'd recognized it as a song Amaryllis sang, and she knew then this fae was special. He'd heard Amaryllis' voice, else how could he know her tune. She watched as he flew across the water near the patch of cattails, and had giggled at his clumsy landing, the hem of his robe falling into the water.

As he squeezed the water from his robe, she glided across the lake to approach him. She was curious about this fae. Why had he come to her garden, on this day, at this time? She'd smiled when he'd leaned in close to the rose, breathing deeply of it's fragrance. She'd seen the look upon his face as he took in the wonderful scent, and it made her happy.

When he'd pulled the knife out and cut the flower away from the stem, it shocked her, and she'd let out a cry of disbelief. She examined the cut on the stem and saw it was a clean cut, and the plant would not be damaged, and so she'd realized he'd taken care not to harm the plant when cutting the flower away. She wondered then why he'd cut the flower, for it would surely wilt and die away. Standing near him now, she was curious. Had he heard her cry? It appeared he was waiting for something to happen, or for someone to speak.

She spoke then, her voice strong, smooth and flowing as a river flows, both dwindling and swelling, alternately, "Hello young one. Did you hear me cry out? It was for the rose you cut from it's stem, for it will surely wilt and die now."

She waited patiently, to see if he would respond, for if he had heard her, he surely would reply. She knew if he'd heard, that her voice was indeed stronger than most, for it was only the strongest voices that were heard by the fae. If he'd heard her voice, she would feel a great sense of accomplishment, for no greater achievement was there than to be heard by the fae.

Kyrylo's ears twitched once more at the gentle voice that called out to him after a few long seconds. Fingering the edge of his blade thoughtfully he turned and looked around trying to see where the source of the voice had come from. The lack of shade in the area was making the spirit very difficult to see as he was used to deciphering where Amaryllis was by the shift in sunlight in a darkened room. Unable to discern any difference in light he finally spoke, "I was bringing it back to Calliope and though indeed it will die, at least it will have brought her a small delight as she has been quite depressed as of late". Mouth quirking in an amused smile he realized that she probably wouldn't know whom Calliope was, "Er, she's my moth companion that Dalia presented to me upon my hatching" he explained as he carefully slipped the rose into his satchel.

Vaguely he wondered if she were anything like Amaryllis or if there was a chance the two of them had met. Perhaps not all Spirits conversed with each other, or then again perhaps only the "strong voices", as Amaryllis had put it, could talk to each other but the rest communicated with a strength of emotion. Stepping eagerly forward he realized that he wasn't entirely sure where this spirit was located. Eyes scanning the area once more for the slightest hint of movement he sat down slowly, hoping that she wasn't impossibly short and standing where he planned to sit. "I can not see you" he murmured more to himself then anyone else.

Idly he began to fidget with the bracelets on his arm as he waited for the voice to talk once more. She had seemed almost hurt or cross that he had cut the rose. Debating whether or not to apologize he twirled the small blade around the knuckles of his left hand, faster and faster until it was just a blur; it was a game he often played with himself when he was worried, the soft whirring of the blade distracting him from his more annoying nervous habit of biting at his nails.

Rosebud watched the fae curiously as he looked about, trying to find her. His voice sounded almost sad when he'd murmured that he could not see her. She wondered why this should make him sad.

She'd thought it special that Kyrylo cared enough for Calliope, that he would bring her a rose for her enjoyment, however brief a time that might be. It brought joy to her heart to find a fae so thoughtful and caring for those around him.

Smiling, her voice rippling through the air once again, sounding happy she said to him, "Why are you sad? Is it not enough that you can hear me? Calliope is very dear to you, I see. How thoughtful of you to bring a gift for her pleasure."

Rosebud decided to tell him a story to cheer him up.

"It happened once, long ago, a fae so cheery, had come to know a friend so dear to his heart. A short time after, the friend had vanished, disappeared without a trace. The fae searched far and wide, leaving no leaf unturned, but all he found was a cocoon. He did not know what a cocoon was, and so he passed without another look.

Finding no trace of his friend anywhere, he'd finally given up, and had returned home. A few weeks later the fae was sitting on the branch where he'd found the cocoon, and he watched as a beautiful moth emerged from it's shell. The moth spoke, and the fae had wondered how the moth had come to know his name. He looked deep into the moth's eyes, and recognized his friend, who had never been lost in the first place."

She hoped that Kyrylo had enjoyed her story. She hoped it cheered him up, for it bothered her to see him so sad. She'd watched him twirl his blade, causing it to make a soft whirring sound, and this interested her, for she had never seen anything like it.

"Oh, I'm not sad, i was worried i had upset you by cutting one of these roses since they seem very special to you " he mumbled slipping the dagger back in to his satchel while looking in the general direction the voice had come from . "It's actually my fault that Calliope can't come, a few days ago a falconette tried to eat her, so until we are sure that it doesn't live near by i asked her to stay at home while i er, investigated the surrounding gardens" Kyrylo explained rocking slightly as he spoke, "she's a bit upset with me" he added sheepishly.

The story she told soon after had all the worries Kyrylo had been thinking about melt away. Smiling in appreciation he listed attentively as she told the story about the friends. After she had finished he broke out into a soft chuckle, "sounds like something Calliope would like to hear very much, I'll have to tell it to her when i get home" pausing he broke out into an even louder laugh and leaped to his feet, "or you could tell her yourself" he suggested. "My home garden is just two away" he motioned over the far side of the garden as he paced excited back and forth. Stopping he wondered if Spirits could fly, and how he would know if she was following behind him or had gotten lost, "I can't see you at all though" he murmured to himself while rummaging through his satchel once more, finally pulling out a long thread of grass he had braided into a small thin rope, "maybe if you held onto this" he spoke to himself.

"I . . . never gave you my name" he frowned before sweeping a low bow in the general direction he had last heard the voice, "Kyrylo Eneas Dazzlelove, and a pleasure to meet you.".

Gliding over to face the young fae, Rosebud listened intently to his voice. "Ahh", the expression had left her lips in almost a whisper, and so it was unlikely Kyrylo had heard it. Worry, so this is what worry looks like, she'd thought to herself. She'd stored that into her memory for future reference.

Listening silently to his story as to why Calliope did not come with him, she'd wondered at this fae who thought so highly of the moth that had been a gift to him. She'd smiled when he explained to her how the moth was upset with him, and how he wanted to take the flower as a gift to her to make up for leaving her behind.

When he'd leapt up onto his feet excitedly, she'd nearly stumbled backwards, if a spirit could indeed stumble. When he'd suggested that she go with him to his garden, to tell her story to his moth, she'd become shocked. Who had ever heard of a spirit accompanying a fae to his home? She'd then wondered if any of the other spirits in the garden had ever done so.

Murmuring to himself, suggesting she hold onto the thread of grass he had braided so that he could see her, she had heard him. She wondered herself if it was indeed even possible. Reaching out to the thread, she tried to take it into her own hand. Once, twice, three times she tried but it was just no use. She'd laughed gently when he'd overzealously introduced himself to the spot she had stood in just moments before.

Focusing her concentration onto the thread, she reached out her hand, and placed it just underneath the thread, then slowly raising her hand, the thread began to curl up into her palm. She smiled in wonder at her accomplishment. She held her hand there, waiting for Kyrylo to let go of the thread so that the end he held would also drop into her hand. Smiling brightly, her voice flowing strong but gentle, she said to Kyrylo, "I will accompany you to your garden and meet your moth, Calliope. I will tell her my story so she may hear for herself, if indeed she may hear the voice of a spirit."

Kyrylo watched in shock as the braid of grass began to curl onto thin air. Eyebrows shooting up to almost disappear he stood up from his bow and stared at the coiled twine for a few moments before venturing forth to try and tap the area between the coiled grass. Tentatively he places a finger in the area seeing if he could feel something solid, to be incredibly confused when he could. "Well at least i can sort of feel you" he murmured before his face was a wreath of smiles all over again, "this is something i didn't know!".

"I will accompany you to your garden and meet your moth, Calliope. I will tell her my story so she may hear for herself, if indeed she may hear the voice of a spirit."

"oh I'm sure she can" he babbled while spreading his wings and giving them a few experimental flaps, "she did come from Dalia after all" he continued as he dropped the remaining bit of thread into her hand. Crouching he jumped into the air and gave a few powerful flaps to gain altitude before turning back to watch the coil of vivid green twine, "I'll fly slowly" he chirped as he turned and began to fly slowly towards Evercommon Garden.

Flying low over the garden he skimmed the water that covered it predominately scattering the faerie fish that lurked just beneath the surface. Looking over his shoulder he made sure the string and the spirit that held it wasn't too far behind before turning to fly through a copse of weeping willows. Batting the fronds of the trees that hung down playfully he looked around for the gate of his garden. Usually he flew there the whole way, but for some reason his usual scenic route didnt really seem like the best way to get home when he had company that he wasn't acquainted with extremely well. He wasn't sure even if she was getting tired already. Landing in the marshy ground beneath the Weeping willows he trudged forward to a rustic looking gate in between two wide trunks, "are you okay?" he asked worried, he really didnt want her to be having a hard time and he wasn't even sure how she had made it this far, did spirits fly? or levitate?

Fiddling with the old lock for a short time he managed to shove the door open on its rusty hinges. With a protesting creak it leaned open to reveal several pine trees on the other side, and beyond that what looked like the hint of mountains and a lake nestled in between. On an island in the middle of the lake was a tall white spire, half crumbled with age it stood as if guarding the land around it, littering the ground with crumbled bits of its structure. "Home sweet home!" grinned Kyrylo waiting for her OK to continue.

Rosebud watched as Kyrylo tested the spot between the thread, pushing downwards. She noticed the look of surprise in his eyes when he'd felt something, felt her hand. It had surprised her as well. The sensation had been odd, and she'd committed it to memory, something to ponder about later.

She'd floated after Kyrylo, pleased that he went slowly enough for her to keep up, as she loved to take her time and watch her surroundings. She did not want to miss anything, not a single insect as it scurried on it's way, not a single bud as it began to open.

Gracefully she floated upwards at each rise they came to, gliding downwards again as they would reach the other side. She'd laughed merrily, her voice tinkling upon the wind as she watched him skim the surface of the water as he flew over. She became a bit concerned as he batted at the the fronds hanging from the trees, then realized he had been batting at them playfully, and she'd smiled.

Watching as he landed on the marshy ground beneath the willows, seeing a rustic gate before them, she decided this must be his home. It appeared to be the sort of place a Whisperer would call home, so she was not surprised. She watched him fiddle with the lock, and when he'd shoved the gate open, her eyes opened wide with surprise and disbelief. It certainly was not what she had expected to see on the other side of this gate.

Rosebud took in the beauty of the garden before her, observing the pine trees, and the large lake beyond them. The focal point of this garden was placed upon the spire that arose from the island at the center of the lake. Rosebud admired the contrasting green of the ivy against the white of the marble the spire was constructed of.

She'd noted the marble benches and statues, crumbling and broken, littering the island, and the pretty white flowers that bordered the path from the dock up to the spire. Seeing the brightness of this garden, she was surprised. It was odd that a Whisperer would make his home here. It certainly had snuck up on her, after having witnessed the shadowy area beneath the willows on the other side of the gate.

"Home sweet home!" grinned Kyrylo

She smiled again, her heart overwhelmed by the beauty of the garden surrounding them. "It's beautiful", she lilted, "Breathtakingly beautiful."

Realizing he was silently awaiting her approval to go on, she said to him, the inflections of her voice both swelling and ebbing as she spoke, "Where is this moth friend of yours. I should very much like to meet her."

"Thank you" Kyrylo responded simply before walking through the gate and letting it close slowly behind him. Running forward he leapt into the air and beat his wings slowly as he carefully flew between the thick trunks of the old pine trees. Breathing deeply he took in the piney fresh scent and once again thanked fate for having stumbled into this garden. Of all the ones he had ever visited this one fit him the most; quiet, secluded, and full of warmth and the things he loved.

Flying Over the inky black water he laughed as the insects resting on its surface skated away from his shadow. Large Lily pads dotted the surface of the water and as he passed over them he would trail his fingers gently over the waxy feeling leave, smiling at the large flower buds that rose up in some areas, waiting to open they sunny centers to the skies. Looking ahead he took in his home, he had been living there for at least a week and already he had so many plans to make it more to his liking. He wanted so much to pick up some of the marble debris littering the grass and form them into a base of a gazebo. The Wisteria plants he had seen blooming in another garden had given him the desire to plant them all around his future gazebo and the fish scales that you could find every so often on the shore would make perfect covering for the roof. The future building would make a perfect place to read, or practice music, to converse with Calliope, or to have friends over. Wistfully he stared at the pile of lumber he had found on the shore near the ancient pines and dragged behind him through the water; one day.

As he neared the island he called out loudly, "Calliope, we have a visitor" before landing ungracefully on the soft grass and running up the gravel walkway to duck through the door of the spire. "You aren't still mad are you? I brought you something" he pleaded looking all around the room before flapping up to the second, and then the third floors. Took you long enough muttered the moth somewhat testily before flitting over to land on his head If we have a visitor why are we up here? "Ah! you're right!" Kyrylo exclaimed hopping out one of the large windows to float down to a marble bench. "Miss Spirit?" he called out tentatively hoping she hadn't decided to leave.

Rosebud heard the sense of pride in his voice as Kyrylo thanked her for her comment about the beauty of his garden. She'd witnessed the passion that filled his eyes as he looked about his own garden. She smiled as she watched him breathe deeply the strong perfume of pine in the air as he flew between the aged trees, they had obviously been here for some time. She wondered that she had not come across this garden before, so close to her own home.

Gliding along behind him, she watched as he trailed his finger over the wax covered leaves. She could see he loved his garden as much as she loved her own. Noting the pile of lumber he had dragged up onto the island, she had decided to make it a point to ask him what it was for, later.

Rosebud heard the fondness in his voice as he called out to Calliope, and it filled her heart with gladness. How wonderful it was that he had a friend so dear to him, she'd thought to herself.

Upon seeing Kyrylo enter his home, she'd followed him inside. She had noted the lamps with the glowing mushrooms and realized that although the garden was not the traditional type home of a Whisperer, the interior was, somewhat. She'd stopped to observe the writing on the wall between the staircases, reading the poem, memorizing every word as she took it in.

"Miss Spirit?"

She heard Kyrylo outside calling to her, and quickly finished the poem, then went back outside, still holding the thread. "Here I am.", she'd called to him. "Rosebud. My name is Rosebud", she'd answered him, smiling.

"Oh, Rosebud. That's a very pretty name" he said turning to face the direction the voice had come from and hoping off the bench he stood on. "Meet Calliope" he said motioning grandly to the small yellow and orange moth perched on his head. At the mention of the spirits name he had recalled the other surprise he had brought back for Calliope. Dipping his hand into his satchel he pulled out the single yellow rose and held it up to her, "I thought that maybe you would like the rose and a visit from Rosebud" he grinned pleased with himself that he had managed to bring something he was sure would put Calliope in better spirits.

"Would you like to sit here" he motioned at the marble bench, "or maybe over near the water?" he asked Rosebud staring at what he hoped to be the height of her face. Calliope had flown down to land on the rose and was rustling her wings happily as she sipped its nectar. Taking off his satchel he left it next to the bench and began to walk slowly towards where he had last her the spirits voice, "it's neat isn't it?" he asked excitedly extending his arm towards the spire, "I can't imagine why it was abandoned. It's perfect, the garden, the lake, everything here is just so serene." he continued stopping before the piece or twine suspended in mid air.

Secretly he hoped the spirit really did like the garden as much as he did and would visit frequently to chat and maybe share some of her stories. As much as he liked solitude, there were times when he longed for others company as well. Calliope wasn't quiet especially, but for the most part she kept to herself and would only talk when she had some remark on something he messed up or if she found something amusing. Musing he looked at the twine for a short time and wondered if she could solidify herself to grasp it then might there also be a way in which she could make herself easier to be seen.

Rosebud had been happy that Kyrylo had liked her name. She'd smiled as he introduced Calliope. She was pleased that the moth seemed to really like the rose he'd brought to her as a gift from Rosebud's garden. She wasn't sure if the moth appreciated her visit or not, but she was sure Calliope did indeed like the sweet nectar from the rose, for she was lapping it up quite contentedly.

"Would you like to sit here" he motioned at the marble bench, "or maybe over near the water?"

Rosebud had a preference of sitting on a lower limb of a tree when she told her stories, else she stood and moved around a bit. Seeing no trees on the island, she'd decided she would prefer to stand than to sit. She turned to face Kyrylo and liltingly said to him, "I think, perhaps, it would be nice to stroll near the waters edge, don't you think?"

"it's neat isn't it?" he asked excitedly extending his arm towards the spire, "I can't imagine why it was abandoned. It's perfect, the garden, the lake, everything here is just so serene."

Turning to look once again at the spire before them, she answered him with a tone of awe in her voice, "It most certainly is quite beautiful. I love how the brilliant green color of the ivy plays nicely upon the creamy white color of the marble tower. It was the first thing I'd noticed when we stepped into your garden."

Speaking strongly enough for Kyrylo to hear, yet nearly in a hushed tone, she'd commented, "The poem on the wall between the staircases, it really is quite lovely. I cannot imagine why someone would have abandoned this wonderful garden of yours. Perhaps it was Fate, that you might claim it for your own."

She turned once again to look at Calliope. The moth seemed to have finished drinking of the nectar from the rose, and so she held out her hand to Calliope, hoping despite the fact that Kyrylo could not see her, that indeed the moth might be able to do so. She would like very much to carry Calliope as they walked, so that she would not miss any part of her story.

"Shall we walk now,", Rosebud said, "and I shall be happy to tell Calliope my story."

"Yes, the waters edge would be nice" he replied with a charming smile. Kyrylo was excited that she had agreed with his inner opinion, as much as he like the benches, it was still pretty early in the day and he had much more energy to burn off still. He had done enough sitting in the rose garden, besides maybe if they were lucky they might come across another fish scale.

"It most certainly is quite beautiful. I love how the brilliant green color of the ivy plays nicely upon the creamy white color of the marble tower. It was the first thing I'd noticed when we stepped into your garden."

"Mmm" he agreed appreciatively looking over his tower and admiring the growth of the ivy climbing along its base. He imagine that one day it would probably nearly reach the top and instead of a white tower made of marble he would have a green living one.

Nodding to her comment about the poem he smiled, the Poem fit him perfectly. On his first visit to this garden he had sat pondering the meaning of it for a long time until suddenly it had dawned on him. The poem was about shadows, how fitting that it was carved into a wall always completely shrouded in shadow.

Calliope flew to perch on Rosebuds outstretched had laughing at the look of shock on Kyrylo's face, not all of us are so blind she chuckled as her wings fanned out for balance.

Kyrylo stared in confusion for a few moments at the moth perched on seemingly nothing before snapping out of his shock, "Er, yes. I will follow" he murmured as he made his way to stand next to the 'levitating' moth.

Rosebuds voice bubbled over with excitement, laughing happily when the moth landed upon her outstretched hand. So the moth could see her. She dropped the thread of grass onto the bench next to the rose, as Kyrylo would now be able to see where she was by watching Calliope, instead.

Turning to face the water, she'd floated slowly over to the shore, then slowly following the shore of the lake around the island, she told her story to Calliope. Her voice flowed smoothly, rising and falling as a river does, the inflections of her voice drawing her audience in.

"It happened once, long ago, a fae so cheery, had come to know a friend so dear to his heart."

She'd looked over at Kyrylo who walked beside her and saw that he was listening intently though he'd heard the story once before. This pleased her very much. She continued on, her voice strong, a rippling current of beauty as it carried itself through the air.

"Finding no trace of his friend anywhere, he'd finally given up, and had returned home."

She'd felt a slight movement from Calliope, and looking down at her she smiled. The moth apparently was enjoying her story as well.

"He looked deep into the moth's eyes, and recognized his friend, who had never been lost in the first place."

She'd finished off her story, and felt a slight whoosh from Calliopes wings as she wiggled them for a moment. She wondered if the moth had liked her story. Smiling down at Calliope, she asked, "Did you enjoy the story, my little friend?"

She had continued to walk slowly, then noticed once again the pile of wood. She turned to Kyrylo and asked him curiously, "What is that pile of lumber you've collected there?"

Kyrylo followed the slowly floating moth down to the waters edge and listened attentively as Rosebud told her story once more. Listening to it the second time around was just as pleasant as the first time. He was really glad that she had decided to come with him to tell her story to Calliope, she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

As they walked Kyrylo scanned the shore for any fish scales. The large golden koi that lived in the bottom f the lake lost their scales every so often and they could be found washed up on the shore, or sticking up in the sand. A glint of something shiny caught his eye and he ran over to unearth a scale that had been half buried in the sand. Holding it up he admires the soft golden sheen for a moment before returning to Rosebud's side to hear the end of the tale.

"Did you enjoy the story, my little friend?"

Kyrylo was pleased to see that Calliope dipped her body in response and turned his wide grin to Rosebud, "I would say yes" he murmured eyes traveling back to his insect companion.

"What is that pile of lumber you've collected there?"

"Oh" said Kyrylo in a rush of excitement, face lighting up and ears twitching in his eagerness to tell her about his plans. "Well you see i was thinking of building up a sort of open structure. With the fish scales i find around the lake" he paused to hold up one he had found during her story telling, "as a sloping roof top cover since they are fairly resilient, bright in color, and water just rolls off them." Pausing he looked at the wood for some time before continuing, "I would really like to have wooden benches on the inside and plant the wisteria seeds i collected all around the base. Maybe one day, i can ask the silk worms in the other gardens if they could help me make cushions and pillows for all the seats" dreamily he looked off into the distance, "It would be such a nice place to tell stories and read books and it would provide another food source for Calliope, she loves wisteria.".

Seeing Kyrylo become excited and then run down to the sandy area of the beach to unearth something shiny, Rosebud became curious. She watched as he held up the shiny fish scale as if he had received a trophy of sorts, and she smiled at his exuberence.

Noting the movement Calliope made when she'd dipped her body in approval of the story she had just told, Rosebud committed the movement to memory, so in the future she would know that it meant Calliope was pleased. She'd wondered if it were the same for other moths or insects as well, and decided she would observe the insects of her garden more closely, and see if any of them also made that same motion when they were pleased.

Listening intently as Kyrylo explained his plans for the lumber and fish scales, his excitement overflowing even onto herself, as she also began to feel the excitement for the changes he would make on the island. Even in his excitement, she could hear the fondness he held in his voice for Calliope when he spoke of her.

Speaking quietly, hoping that Calliope could hear her, but knowing that Kyrylo would not, she smiled down to the moth, "He's very fond of you. Of that I am certain." Once again, she noted how Calliope dipped her body when she was pleased, and it made her happy.

Turning once again to Kyrylo, she said to him, excitement bubbling up from within her as she spoke, "I look forward to seeing these changes you speak of here in your garden. The wisteria growing tall around your gazebo, the wooden benches, the sun glinting off the scale roof, it all sounds so very exciting. Cushions spun from the silk of worms. Calliope feeding upon the wisteria while you sit underneath your gazebo enjoying the fresh air surrounding you."

An idea began to form within her mind, expanding and ballooning, filling her mind with wonder and excitement, even as she spoke. "I think I shall make a story about this!", she exclaimed, her voice rippling with emotion.

Of course! Why it would be the perfect story, of a young fae and his moth, working to turn their home into a brighter place to live. Excitement washed over her at the prospect of making up a story about Kyrylo and Calliope. She could hardly wait to get started so she could tell it to them first, and gain their approval. She hoped that this was only the first of many more meetings to come, for she truly enjoyed the company of Kyrylo and Calliope.

Kyrylo's eyes grew round as saucers as he listened to Rosebud talk about his idea in an approving manner. He had never told anyone else of his plans before and had been secretly harbouring doubts as to what others might think. There were still many plans and steps to be done and the more he worked on it the more doubtful he became. What if he needed to get help from some other Fae and they found his moderation's to his garden appalling? He didn't think he would deal with it well if all the Fae around the evercommon garden jeered and laughed at his 'silly' ideas.

Rosebud was different though, he felt almost as if he could tell her anything and most often did without even a second thought. Holding his hand out for Calliope he sank to the ground slowly to absorb what Rosebud had said. A story, about him and Calliope; it was almost too much to take even sitting down. "I would be honored" he managed to whisper out, clasping the scale still in his hand so that his knuckles turned white; their own special story, maybe one day it could be told in his gazebo.

The grumble of his tummy broke his awed silence and stricken he looked to where Calliope had last flown from. "Do spirits eat?" he rushed out wondering what he could possibly provide for her to eat if they did, somewhere upstairs he had left a small fold of leaves with honeyed bread and some berries he hadn't yet gotten the chance to try if he liked.

Rosebud watched Kyrylo curiously, wondering about his reaction when she'd said she would make up a story about he and Calliope. At first, as he sank to the ground, holding his hand out for Calliope, then grasping the shell so tightly his knuckles were turning white, she'd thought he was disappointed. Then he'd whispered,

"I would be honored"

Realizing that he was pleased with her idea, she'd smiled brightly. In the next moment, he'd become animated, looking over to where she stood.

"Do spirits eat?"

He'd gushed out the words in a rush, the question taking her quite by surprise. Unsure of how to answer him, she silently pondered his question for a time. She saw his questioning look and realized she had taken too much time to answer.

"Forgive me the delay in answering your question, as I am really unsure how to answer so that you may understand."

Looking about the island, across the surface of the water, and to the land beyond covered in the tall pine trees, she began to formulate an answer for him. Her voice rippling through the air, she spoke as if telling another story, the inflections in her voice rising and ebbing as she talked.

"In answer to your question, Spirits do not eat the way other beings eat. Our sustenance comes from the beauty that surrounds us. Each flower, each tree, from the earth itself, we feed. From the clear pools of water as it laps upon the shore, and even from the breeze as it slips gently past us, we drink deeply.

I cannot explain the manner in which we sustain ourselves. It is just an occurence, something that the living around us would not understand.

Take away the beauty that surrounds us, and we would become dark and hollow. An emptiness would wash over us, and we would become as a wraith who knows no care, nor pleasure, nor beauty. A spirit we would remain, and yet we would cease to be."

Rosebud watched the expressions as they crossed over Kyrylo's face, and wondered if he'd understood. She wasn't sure if she'd even understood, for she'd never had to explain it before.

Gently she brushed her hand over the fae's head, as if to pet him, a gesture of friendship, the first she had made. She liked Kyrylo, and Calliope as well. She hoped they felt the same way about her.

Kyrylo's brows furrowed at the long pause after his most recent question. He hoped that he hadn't somehow insulted her. He had learned that some of the faeries in the garden were very particular about their looks and weight and it was often considered rude to mention anything about food around them as it would put them in a tizzy. Staring at the air before him he tried to imagine Rosebud being the same way but couldn't, she just didn't seem the type to spend her time worrying about that when her mind had more creative outlets.

"Forgive me the delay in answering your question, as I am really unsure how to answer so that you may understand."

Nodding without a word he waited calmly for an explanation before nodding in silent contemplation. How was it that spirits ate? and how was it that this had never crossed his mind before? Musing to himself, he stroked Calliope's antennae gently trying to decipher what was so difficult to describe.

He listened in rapt silence as her explanation began to unfold. Gasping in shock at the fact that spirits could become 'hollow' and nodding slowly as understanding dawned on him. No wonder it was so hard to describe, they didnt exactly eat so much as became a part of the beautiful essence that surrounded them. Casting a glance around his island and the marble that littered the land in erratic disarray he frowned, "Should we go to another garden with more flowers? maybe back to yours?". Surely a garden with so many things eroding away from the passing of time could not be a very sustaining food source, especially compared to some of the wildly beautiful gardens he had flown over.

A soft brush against his head caused him to look sharply up and squint, "I still don't understand why i can't see you at all" he muttered before gathering himself and standing, brushing a few blades of grass from his robe and looking up longingly at his spire. "Before we go" he paused looking at Calliope as sh dipped her body in approval, "would you like to see the rest of the spire?".

Rosebud was pleased that Kyrylo had seemed to understand her explanation as to how spirits recieve their sustenance. A look of sympathy crossed her face when she'd heard him once again mutter in disappointment that he could not see her. She'd watched him as he looked around his garden with worry upon his face, and then questioned her,

"Should we go to another garden with more flowers? maybe back to yours?"

Her laughter tinkled upon the wind, sounding like a chorus of bells that went off in unison. Not wanting him to think she was laughing at him, but rather having found his statement amusing, she abruptly ended her laughter and explained,

"It is not necessary for us to leave your garden. There is a beauty here unlike the other gardens. Though the benches and statues are crumbling, they add to the beauty of your garden. The spire standing tall against the sky, and the green ivy that wraps around the spire creates a vision of beauty here. The lake surrounding your island, and the tall pine trees beyond provide a wonderful backdrop. Beauty does not just come from the sight of a pretty flower. It can come in many shapes and forms and colors. Is it not the beauty of your garden that attracted you to this place?"

She knew the answer to her question without his answering it. She'd wanted him to understand, and that's why she had asked the question. In response to his own question, she stated simply,

"I should love to see the rest of the spire. If you like, and she is willing, I can carry Calliope again so that you may know where I am as we walk."

Kyrylo listened to the soft tinkling laughter for a short time with one brow arched quizzically; something he had said was funny? Her explanation that followed caused Kyrylo to grin widely and glance up at his home before responding in kind, "I don't know if it was the beauty" he replied solemnly, "but something about this place just felt right" pausing he motioned to where his heart was, "in here.". When he had first seen the garden he knew instantly that this was where he wanted to live. It didnt strike him as one of the most beautiful gardens but something about how the garden was laid out and the creatures that inhabited it put him at ease. Brow furrowing he recommended his though, well, not ALL the inhabitants, something had attacked Calliope not long ago.

"I should love to see the rest of the spire. If you like, and she is willing, I can carry Calliope again so that you may know where I am as we walk."

Calliope flew from his hand to land lightly on Rosebuds shoulder, laughing quietly at the slight frown that turned Kyrylo's lips, jealousy isn't becoming she murmured in her soft speech. Walking forward he pushed open the door and motioned to the barren lower room, "since you've already seen here i suppose we should go up". Flapping his wings he launched himself into the air and flew through one of the two holes in the ceiling, landing a short time later amid the piles of books that littered the floor. Glancing around he took in his mess, only he didn't find it so much a mess as an assortment of all the things that interested him. He could easily pull out each item he needed as he knew exactly where everything was located. "This" he motioned grandly at its messy splendor, "is my study".

Quietly he observed his favorite room in the spire as he let Rosebud look around. Piled on the large desk in the center were many half drawn pictures and hastily scrawled notes that sat glinting in the light as they dried. He had been unable to find or make an ink that dried very quickly and found the vellum tended to smear if you didnt let it dry all the way. Several long scrolls of vellum had been tucked into the bookshelves that lined the room, and rows upon rows of books littered every possible space on the floors and shelves. Several different small pots of ink sat in a neat row on the top of the nearest bookshelf and a pile of feathers of varying sizes and length lay on a very large leather bound book. The room smelled strongly of the various herbs that hung from hooks in the ceiling along with the faintest scent of berries from the ink pots. Kyrylo sighed happily and glanced down at the nearest vellum with a sketch of on of the statues in the House of Eagles; this was his haven.

After several long minutes he motioned to the hole in the ceiling, "the last is my bed chamber" he explained as he took seat on one of the many tall piles of books. "Any questions yet?" he asked with a large grin plastered across his face.

When Kyrylo had spoken, he'd explained of how he had felt when he'd first come to this garden. Rosebud listened attentively.

"I don't know if it was the beauty" he replied solemnly, "but something about this place just felt right" pausing he motioned to where his heart was, "in here."

Rosebud had nodded, though she knew he could not see her motion. Letting her voice flow strong, she said to him, "You discovered the beauty of this garden within your heart. The atmosphere created by the scene that lays before you, is in and of itself, beautiful."

"Just because something cannot be seen, does not mean it isn't beautiful. You feel a special kinship with Calliope here. That bond between you cannot be seen, nor touched, yet it is beautiful in it's own, blessed way."

She did not know why, but she felt it important that he be able to understand true beauty, in it's purest form. In that moment, she felt a need for him to understand, and so she'd decided she would do what she could to help him see the world as she saw it.

Having let Kyrylo know that she would indeed love to see his tower, Calliope flew up to land on Rosebud's shoulder, in response to her invitation.

Noticing the little flash of jealousy that had flickered over Kyrylo's face, Rosebud decided she would have to figure another way of making it known to Kyrylo where she is, when they walk together. She did not want to be the cause of dissension between the two friends, however discreet they were about it.

She'd smiled as Calliope landed on her shoulder, and she turned to follow Kyrylo inside. Once inside, Kyrylo had motioned to the room on the first floor, stating,

"since you've already seen here i suppose we should go up"

Continuing to the second floor, Kyrylo had made a grand gesture at the messy room before them and had announced it as his study. She had glanced around the room, then looked over at Kyrylo, who's eyes were slowly sweeping around the room, stopping here and there to rest on some treasured item. She saw the fondness in his eyes each time they rested upon an object, and she'd smiled.

Gliding over to the desk, she saw several half-drawn pictures and notes that had been scrawled on various bits and pieces of vellum. Noting one picture, she smoothed her hand over it softly and watched as it slid, ever so slightly, at her touch.

Amazed, she tried it again, and once again the picture had moved as if a gentle breeze had lifted it then lowered it down again, sliding it over ever so slightly.

As she gazed upon the picture a realization came over her. "This...picture here, on the table, it is a picture of the gazebo you wish to build upon the island?"

She had hardly heard him announce that the room above was his bedchamber, for she was intrigued by this one picture that sat upon his desk. The picture was incomplete, but it was a gazebo, with wisteria vines that had been planted at it's base, and the shell roof that Kyrylo had spoken of. The interior of the gazebo was empty.

Once again, she brushed her hand over the picture, causing it to move ever so slightly, and she awaited Kyrylo's response.

Kyrylo's eyes traveled slowly around his favorite room, resting occasionally on a trinket that had caught his fancy on one of his mini garden explorations. He stopped as he noticed a sheet of vellum on his desk fluttering as if a light wind had blown over it. Intrigued, he focused on the movement for a short time more before looking up at a slightly moving Calliope and smiling in wonder. So they were solid, to a certain extent. He had felt something before when he touched what he assumed was her hand with the coiled grass in it, and now he was seeing yet another example.

"This...picture here, on the table, it is a picture of the gazebo you wish to build upon the island?"

Stepping forward he peeked down at the half drawn picture she had asked about and blushed furiously at his crude drawing. He had smudged several fingerprints all over it and several things were proportionately off, but it was indeed his future gazebo. "Er.. yes" he mumbled averting his gaze from the drawing and wishing he had put it somewhere else to dry, "its a very rough idea though". Turning to gaze back at the picture he decided that he would need to draw a much nicer version and then take it to someone who excelled at math, so he could find out how small he had to cut the wood, and how many scales he needed to complete the roof. So many things still needed to be completed and designed before he could actually get his little structure up.

Suddenly he remembered that upstairs was a little house he had made for Calliope that Rosebud might enjoy. The view from the top room was also very beautiful and he imagined she might like that as well. Clearing his throat he watched Calliope for a few moments before motioning once more upstairs. "There is a mini model of it upstairs made from twigs and small flat pebbles if you would like to see" he offered, trying to get her attention away from the messy drawing.

Rosebud watched Kyrylo's cheek flush red in embarassment at the picture she'd drawn his attention to. She'd wondered at that, curious as to why he found the picture to be embarassing.

Sure, the picture was obviously incomplete, and had smudges upon it, and some spots were out of proportion, but still, she had recognized it for what it was, and she found it to be beautiful. Apparently he did not find it so, and so she kept silent.

She'd wandered around the room a bit more, examining with interest, the books on the shelves, and the different items Kyrylo had placed about here and there.

"There is a mini model of it upstairs made from twigs and small flat pebbles if you would like to see"

Hearing that he'd made a smaller model of the gazebo struck her with interest. She would like to see it very much.

Turning to Kyrylo, she'd glided over to him, and her voice rippling with pleasure, she'd said to him, "Please, I should like very much to see this mini model you speak of."

As an afterthought, she'd added somberly, "Your picture of the gazebo, it's beautiful. I thought you should know."

Rosebud followed Kyrylo to the top floor, his bedchamber as he had called it. Looking about the room, she'd spotted the little mini-gazebo he had mentioned, and she glided over to it.

Examining the little gazebo, she'd reached out with her hand and lowering her hand gently, she attempted to pick it up. After her first attempt had failed, she'd decided not to try again, for fear she would smash the twigs inadvertently. She did not wish to upset Kyrylo by damaging the little structure he'd formed for Calliope.

She said to him, "How quaint this little gazebo is. You've done a beautiful job on it. I'm sure Calliope must be very pleased."

Rosebud watched as the moth fluttered her wings in approval, and she'd smiled.