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Chapter 8: Bulbs of daffodils

Daimone stopped adjusting his tie and frowned. Tilting his head slightly, he tried to discern what he was hearing. It sounded like dirt was being upturned. Was there a stray animal digging near the house again? Not for the first time, he wondered whether he had made a mistake building the house so near the deep forest.

When the noise suddenly stopped, he decided not to investigate and went to back to fixing his tie. As he was shrugging on his coat jacket, the noise came again, and he instantly sifted outside, towards the direction of the noise.

His eyes were immediately assaulted by the visuals of a half-naked Jamal kneeling in front of his house with what looked to be flower bulbs in his hands. But it wasn't the sight of his brother wearing ONLY light green overalls that made the veins on his forehead twitch. It was the sight of upturned grass and visible earth.

He closed his eyes and blew out a calm breath. "Jamal," he began.

Jamal sent him an image of daffodils with their stems tucked into a filled, curved vase, the vase set on a familiar looking table. Jamal must have snuck it into his house while he was dressing because it hadn't been there at sunrise when he had passed the table to get a glass of water.

[Aren't they just the prettiest flowers you've ever seen?] Jamal asked, a proud smile on his face. He patted the dirt around the daffodil bulb he had just planted and shifted some inches over, restarting the process of digging.

"Jamal," Daimone repeated, staring in shock as Jamal parted the earth on his property with his bare hands. "You…my grass…flowers…no…WHY??" he demanded.

Jamal chuckled. [Breathe, brother. The flowers on the table are the ones I gave to the child. She suggested I replant them, and I wasn't thinking when I agreed.]

[Yes], he replied with relief. [You were wrong to ever think about replanting those horrid—]

[That's not what I mean], interrupted Jamal. [I meant that I couldn't plant the flowers on the table since they only had their stems. But I said I would. That's why I got these], Jamal said, showing Daimone the bulbs. [These babies will last through winter and bloom in spring], he said proudly.

Daimone's lips pulled back as he snarled, "You have your own house. Plant them there!"

This seemed to get Jamal's attention. He stopped what he was doing and shifted his body towards Daimone, looking thoughtful.

Just when Daimone thought he had talked some sense into his brother, his brother grinned widely as if Daimone had said something funny.

[Heh, you both are more similar than I realized], Jamal said, turning back to his bulbs.

Before Daimone could ask who Jamal was talking about, Jamal sent him a short memory of the child rejecting Jamal's offer to plant the flowers outside and below her window. Not waiting for Daimone to speak, Jamal also sent him the fresh memory of him demanding Jamal to plant the flowers at Jamal's own house.

[Similar, no?] asked Jamal smugly.

Daimone didn't reply, his mind still replaying the memories he had received from his brother, trying to find any fault with what Jamal had observed, not wanting to have any similarities with the child at all.

[I wanted to plant these flowers in a place where all three of us could look at them], continued Jamal, oblivious to Daimone's inner struggle. [Yes, Ellerslie and I may have our own places, but this house is usually where all three of us meet. I suppose I can plant them at my own place and view them myself, but where's the fun in that? And even if I did grow them there, the women I sleep with might pluck them in passing. I will never allow that 'cause—]

[Do what you want], interrupted Daimone emptily. He cut himself off from the main connection and sifted to his office, grasping his bag and sifting to his company, not wanting to think about the child longer than he had to.

====================

[Daimone?] Jamal asked. He prodded the main connection with his mind, feeling for his brother's presence. When he didn't find it, he pulled his mind back and looked at the bulbs in his hand.

"Did we make him angry?" he asked the bulbs. The short roots at their ends ruffled slightly in the wind as if to reassure him, and he chuckled. "You're right. How could such pretty flowers make him angry? It must be because of something else. Maybe because I brought up the topic of women?"

Now that he thought about it, it had been a century since he saw Daimone with a woman. Maybe Daimone was just being private about his sex life? No, that wasn't possible since Daimone acted like he hadn't had sex in a century. Did he prefer something other than a woman then? Maybe a man?

Jamal thought about it and shook his head. No, that still wasn't possible since Daimone acted like he hadn't touched another person intimately in a century. Maybe his brother had reached the stage of not desiring sex anymore?

How enviable, he thought privately as he planted the last bulb.


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