The night was cool without being unpleasantly so, and the moon's light was more than sufficient by which to see.
"Would you like to take a walk?" Zel inquired, not wanting to return to the others just yet.
"That'd be nice." Lina, too, wasn't quite ready for their fun to end. "How 'bout over there?" she suggested, pointing toward a small copse of trees not too far from where they stood.
"As you wish."
They strolled side-by-side in silence for a while. Finally, Lina ventured, "Thanks, Zel. For all you've done for me.
"Don't mention it. I enjoyed myself..." he trailed off, not sure if he should've let that slip.
Lina smiled. "I did, too, even if I was sick."
They stopped in front of a towering weeping willow. Lina sat down, her back against the trunk. Zel joined her.
"There's a story..." Lina spoke quietly. "Once, an old man lived with his young daughter. His wife had died in childbirth, and their daughter was all he had left.
"One day, a young man stopped by the house, looking for a place to spend the night. Some time during that night, the two young people moved to a corner and spoke at length.
"As it turns out, the old man's daughter and the young man were soulmates, and neither of them could be happy without the other now that they'd found each other. They did not realise this yet, but the old man did. He wanted so much for his daughter to be happy that he got the pair to admit to their feelings somehow.
"The daughter was afraid to leave, however, because her father was old, and she'd taken care of him for a long time. The old man assured them both that he would get along fine. He took all of his savings and said it would be the dowry.
"The young man and the daughter were ecstatic by then. The joy the thought of being together gave them made them blind to the look of sadness the old man couldn't quite hide.
"The next day, the two left, promising to visit at the next equinox. As soon as they were out of sight, the old man broke down, weeping for a very long time. Then, he prayed to the gods. Not for his daughter to be returned, or for someone to appear to care for him, or any such selfish thing. All he prayed for was for his daughter and her husband-to-be to be happy.
"The gods had pity on this poor man. Rather than force him to live out his days in misery, they transformed him into a beautiful tree: the weeping willow. Beneath the tree, as a promise, two flowers grew. These flowers twined around each other so that they almost seemed to be a single plant. These flowers were the gods' promise to keep the daughter and the young man happy. This promise extended to all those few who had a soulmate: once the two discovered this truth, somewhere these two flowers would bloom, and from that moment on the gods would watch over them especially."
All was quiet for a moment. Then, Zel said softly, "An interesting folktale, 'soulmates.'"
"You don't believe in soulmates?" Lina asked, surprised.
Zel shook his head.
"Gods, you are such a cynic."
"I suppose I am, at that."
There was silence again. Zel started then froze as Lina leaned over him, her hand brushing against the side of his face. "Lina...?"
Their eyes locked. "I...this was...in your hair," she explained quietly, holding up a fluffy dandelion seed for his inspection.
"Oh."
Neither of them moved. It was as if time stopped. "Lina..." Zel uttered again. The blush he felt burning his cheeks was mirrored on her lovely face, Zel noted in some remote corner of his mind.
Lina swallowed hard. "Zel, I..." She truly did not know what to say. That was all right, however, since a moment later they were kissing, and she didn't have to say anything.
A moment or perhaps a millennium later, they parted. Lina absently chewed on her lower lip. "Zel?" she asked, a multitude of questions attached to that one syllable.
His hand came up, caressing her cheek much like she'd caressed his moments before. He studied her face, a look of one who'd had an epiphany on his own face. "I love you," he whispered, sounding as if he'd made some great discovery.
"I...I love you, too." Lina spoke the realisation aloud.
As Zel leaned forward to kiss Lina again, a thought skittered through his mind: perhaps Amelia would end up as Lina's bridesmaid, after all.
Nearby the pair, under the tree, two flowers had sprung up at a preternatural speed, their stems entwined to such a degree that it was nigh impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Had Lina and Zel noticed this, they would have recognised it as an omen. However, they were much too intent on each other to notice anything save each other.
Not that it mattered, of course. They both knew the future held wonders for them.

-end-

______
It's over. At long last. ("And there was much rejoicing.") I'll likely put up a hypertext version when I get back.

--Elizabeth, Trickster Priestess ~_~