Lira was quietly talking to the flowers once more.
It wasn't a loud conversation, just a gentle murmur— a sound that felt natural in a garden, like the whisper of the wind, there without demanding attention. She strolled between the flower beds with a small pair of shears, carefully snipping away dead growth that, given how little there was, didn't really need to be removed. The blooms seemed to lean faintly toward her, almost as if they were listening. Nearby, Aria sat on a low stone bench near the far wall, knees drawn up, lost in her book, which, surprisingly, she hadn't turned a single page of in minutes.
On the other side, Garrett was lounging on another bench, quietly eating an apple with a calm and deliberate grace, wasting no energy on anything unnecessary.
"The quiet's been good," he said.
