Bloom-Chapter 1-2-Lotusguord

                   With little dust at her feet, Bloom started for the Pixie Dust Tree at a very difficult pace. Even with wings, she was not able to give a strong thrust to open them and push off the ground; she was left to walk. A kind voice of curious blue eyes danced upon her to beckon a simple questionnaire. "Hey, Bloom, right? Ran outta dust again?" the green clad fairy smiled. Bloom turned to her and gave a meek nod. It always left her to this: she would spray all of her power to plants that grew weak until her last drop of gold was nothing but air. Bloom did not see how it was a problem. However, as cheerful as she sang in her quiet knothole bathed in pink cherry blossoms, she should not bring it to work; a smile, she thought, was enough. Rather than speaking to those gay of each turning season, she would turn to those who would try to mend these traditions of centuries into uniqueness; and so she spoke to Bell the Tinker. She saw how her hair glowed with the gold of pixie dust and how her eyes rose with the morning dew; her attire secretly by the leaves, and her hands tainted with a technical structure that no other Tinker fairy had. She was rather intriguing. Bloom nodded to her and was offered a small bridal-carry to the tree. Warm in her glowing flesh, Bloom closed her eyes until they reached the tree. There a male fairy waited at the pouring falls of the grains of replenishment. "Tink! Bloom ran out?" he waved his hand and chuckled a raised brow. Tinkerbell shrugged her shoulders and had Bloom stand straight. "She likes giving the remaining rations to the wilting trees-that's a Garden Fairy alright!" Bloom suddenly felt to quicken the pace to receive another ration for the remainder of the day. She had the need to speak, but was aghast by Rosetta presence. "Well," she closed her lids to sigh, "at least you came here alright." "Yes," Tinkerbell giggled, "I carried her here." "I hope she wasn't too much trouble." "Nope. I was almost done with my latest invention, so no worries." "I'd like to go back to my knothole," Bloom finally answered, "There's something there I need." She was shy, and thus, hearing her voice was practical music to each fairy's pointed ear. The dust fairy was about done pouring dust upon her head and wiped a little out of her eyes. Bloom never liked that. The dust that would keep to her eyes would stain her sight, but it did give her stars to see if not for a little while. "Alright," Rosetta marked, "say thank you, Bloom." "Thank you, Terence." "No problem." And so Rosetta signaled a leave and Bloom followed watching her older sister and the gold keeper speak to each other. Bloom wondered what connected those two beyond talent and friendship rather than among them. She asked many times, but never had a clear answer. It was: "We have problems, we fix them like we do work," or, "We help each other and every talent." It was never clear; never specific. Bloom was dissatisfied.