I really meant to take part in each day of Rivetra week, but I’ve been incredibly busy with work, and I’ve practically had more family in the hospital than out of it recently, so I wasn’t able to. ;___; However, I couldn’t let the whole week pass without doinganything for it, even if this is late. Heroine also wrote a drabble below to go along with the picture. =)
"Levi!" A bright, playful giggle as he feels something soft touch his scalp.
"Hnnnn?" Flat, ashen orbs flit up to her at his side, deft, charcoal eyes making quick work of the lines of her face- committed to memory. There’s a vibrant luminosity to her even on the most dreary of days. Nonetheless, he’s pleased today isn’t one of those. The grass- verdent and lush- whistles with the welcoming of spring; dotted with flowers, just like the handwoven wreath that now decorates his raven crown in tiny specks of white. Truly, she expected him to immediately toss it from his brow, but he hardly moves, staring her down rather flatly as she settles herself at his side. "What is this, Petra?"
"Ah, it’s a flower crown." A soft smile. "My father used to make them with me when I was a girl."
"I think it would look better on you."
She stifles a giggle, a coy smile painting her face as a breeze rushes her honey locks. “No. I like it this way.”
"Er, would you rather I took it back?"
He pulls it down from his scalp, studying the way she’s knotted and twisted the stems in a manner that doesn’t look half like destruction. No, it’s clean and skillful- just like her. “No. I like it this way.” Flat words.
She places it atop his head anew, a playful curve to her lips as she cuddles against his sitting form on this verdant, earthly carpet. “I knew you would.”
"Next time, you’ll wear it."
That time never came. Dried, cracked leaves and petals nearly turn to dust in his fingers. She too - like these flowers-, is wilted and gone. What she did all those months ago, he would have crafted for her in return- a thickly woven crown of 3- no 4- no 5 layers; full of warm sparks of pink, lush purples and tiny flints of cerulean that would pierce through the lacy silken, translucent cloth laid about her copper locks. Yes, a crown, only fitting- for she is, after all, the Queen of his heart. However, he can never fulfill such a promise, and neither can she- she never showed him how she so skillfully created such worthless, beautiful things. Even if she had, there’s no longer a honey coloured girl to share them with anyway.