At some point, Hayden becomes preoccupied. He keeps glancing around them, scrutinizing the surrounding area. When Rosco tries to speak, he gets the impression Hayden barely hears him. The god still manages to catch every detail and when pressed could recite them all back, but Rosco couldn’t hold his eyes for more than a second.

It was oddly troubling.

The mountains grow closer, and the closer they come, the more trees line the road.

Rosco very quickly decides he likes them. When asked, Hayden had called them evergreens. Their leaves looked like nothing he’d ever seen, thin like needles, some even sharp, and Hayden said they stayed green all year, even in winter. The idea was ridiculous, and amazing. The trees themselves gave off a soft scent. The air around them was full of it. Every time the pair passed through a grove, Rosco found himself looking for the next one with a sort of anticipation he’d never expected to feel for trees.

Hayden still had not found what he was looking for, the space between his brows becoming increasingly crinkled and the line of his mouth ever thinner.

“Hayden?”

“Hum?” the god replies, more as an automatic response to having his name called than really responding.

“What are you looking for?” skipping up to match his strides.

“Oh,” Hayden blinks down at Rosco, as if noticing him for the first time, “I was looking for wildflowers.” 

The boy does a slow pan of the surrounding grass, spotting numerous wildflowers: bright yellows, soft whites, vibrant purples. Stopping mid-step, Rosco lets Hayden move ahead of him staring at the gods back. Puzzled, he reaches up to rub his neck before giving a shrug and rushing to the roadside where the gravely dirt meets the grass. Quickly finding what he’s looking for, Rosco jogs to cover the distance Hayden had gained, tapping on the taller man’s shoulder. As Hayden turns to look at him, Rosco presses a perfect yellow bloom into his hands, grinning wildly. “See,” Gesturing to the gifted flower, “I can be immensely helpful.” Rosco announces, quite pleased with himself.

Hayden glances between the boy and the flower several times before understanding lights in his eyes, “Oh, no. Rosco, I meant Wildflower spirits, not actual wildflowers.”

All Rosco’s triumph shifts into an exaggerated pout, “Fine, I’ll take it back then.” Reaching for his little gift.

Hayden jerks it away,” No.” protecting his blossom with both hands, “this is mine now, you can’t just take it back.” Smirking down at the boy, “Giving offerings to gods is a serious matter Rosco, you simply cannot expect me to return this.”

Rosco’s chin hits the dirt, “What!?” his cheeks puff, and all the blood rushes to his head, “Y-you! I- That’s not what I meant!” Lunging for the flower.

Hayden laughs, bright and easy, white eyes sparkling in the sunlight. With a flick of his wrist the flower bursts into a spark of light, vanishing from view, “I’ve put it away, stop trying to steal it.” reaching over to shut Rosco’s once again slack jaw. “I was looking for the wildflower spirits for your sake. I felt them near sometime this morning. I wanted to show them to you, but I have a feeling they may be hiding from me, otherwise we should have seen them by now,” His brow draws together in concern and then quickly melts away into a soft smile, lightening his features, “Gia is very fond of wildflowers, spunky stubborn little things,” Hayden gets a faraway look on his face as he talks about them, “honestly everything that falls under her authority is remarkable in its tenacity, she gives her creations such power and resolve, beauty and ferocity.” Directing the boy’s attention out into the hills, “Take these flowers for example,” Giving his hands a wide sweep of the landscape, “they seem fragile, fleeting, but no matter how many times you pull them up, they always come back. In places where no other plants dare grow, they thrive.”

“You miss her,” Rosco says before thinking.

Hayden turns to him, all the softness in his expression now screaming of sadness, an ache of loss Rosco himself knows well.

“I do.” The god admits quietly, “Even though I have not been gone long, we are meant to be together. Separation has been more painful than I anticipated.”

“But-” Rosco hesitates, “You’ve been gone for so long, like hundreds of years? Almost everyone has forgotten you.”

“From my perspective, hundreds of years is very little time at all,” Hayden almost growls, his eyes darkening with anger, “And I do not have the pleasure of forgetting. For me, those wounds are as fresh as the day I made them.”

Swallowing, Rosco shrinks back, he hadn’t meant to prod at a sore spot, “I- I sh- shouldn’t have brought it up. I- I just didn’t understand.” He mumbles as an apology.

Hayden closes his eyes, “You did nothing wrong, Rosco,” breathing in slow and deep, “I am not upset with you. I would just rather not speak of it.” His once again light eyes running Rosco up and down, “I did not mean to frighten you,” letting out a soft sad sort of laugh, “you react so strongly when I get even the slightest bit annoyed.”

Rosco releases the gathered tension from his shoulders, “It’s that thing your eyes do.” Wiggling his fingers at them.

Frowning, “What thing?” Hayden asks.

“When they go all black and scary?”

The god blinks back, “Oh, well yes, I imagine you would find that unusual.” Shaking his head, “I don’t often pay attention to my appearance, just sort of let it be what it is. Thank you for letting me know,” Riffling the boy’s hair, “I will be more mindful of it from now on.”

Rosco squirms, positively beaming, it’s not often Rosco is thanked for pointing out something odd he’d noticed.

“Come,” Hayden says in that commanding tone of his, firmly taking Rosco’s hand and guiding him along, “I want to show you wildflowers. Since they are hiding, we will just have to find them.”

Hayden drags him out into the field, sitting him down in a patch of grass surrounded by brightly colored blooms. Rosco looks up to the god bewildered, opening his mouth to unleash the plethora of questions waiting there, only for Hayden to speak first,

“Praise them.” He says plainly, gazing down at him expectant.

“I- I don’t- What?”

Hayden kneels beside him on the grass, “The flowers, tell them they are beautiful and what not.”

The look on his face must be something, because Hayden laughs brightly, adverting his eyes, “All spirits are attracted to praise, they thrive on it. Not many people have passed this way recently, if you spend a few moments gushing over these flowers, their spirits will come.”

This felt silly, “You want me to talk to the flowers?” Rosco asks, one eyebrow traveling up, “Are you sure you’re not just messing with me?”

Hayden chuckles, “You don’t have to speak aloud if that helps.” Getting back to his feet, “I’m going to hide, and when the Spirits come, I’ll return.” Vanishing when he’s finished speaking.

Rosco scowls at the empty space. This was even worse, Hayden wanted him to talk to a field of flowers and didn’t even stay to share in the humiliation.

“Oh, what pretty flowers.” He says loudly and admittedly a tad disingenuously. He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face, letting them fall dramatically to his lap.

Praise the flowers, he thinks to himself, letting his eyes linger on each different bloom at his feet, not really sure what it means to ‘praise’ them. Over the years a few of the children that had come to live with them were active followers of Ocyrin. Lolly never stopped them worshiping but neither did she encourage it. And Rosco had certainly gone to the temple, so he has no idea what real praise was supposed to look like.

The flowers are beautiful, that was easy to admit. His eyes rose a little higher, taking in more of the grass covered hills, and there were so many. Just a rock throw off the road and he could see so many more; blues and oranges, a few so delicately pink they are almost white. And so many different shapes and sizes. The one he’d given Hayden had been yellow, about the size of a coin with thousands of tiny petals. But now he looked closer, seeing even smaller ones dotted in among the clover, and larger ones on thin stems reaching high up above the grass line. From afar, the hill side was painted in color, but up close it was just as breath taking.

Rosco’s eyes drift closed, getting caught up in the moment. The image of Hayden’s face when he had first handed him the flower greeting him from behind his eyelids. For the briefest moment, the god had looked so, happy.

A light laughter fills his ears, like bells on the wind. The tiny sound snapped his eyes open and there before him, a whole gathering of miniature people.