Venisin Lanse, Eighth Bloom sat in the cafe, vines slowly digesting a piece of lab meat. On the floor next to her was her adorable little floret, kneeling on a pillow. Mostly mindless for now, but aware enough to clutch at the vines half entombing them into the side of Venisin's body.

 

This morning Venisin had taken their memories, then spent an hour slowly capturing and tormenting them in the jungle that was her hab unit. Her little floret always spent some time a little extra needy after an experience like that. Venisin considered it a perk.

 

She stroked a vine down the side of her little petals neck, just over one of the electrical burns from earlier, and watched as a full body shudder ran from their head down.

 

Maybe she'd make that shudder permanent. That would certainly be an lovely touch. But then she’d have to be deliberate about the contact, and she did appreciate being able to just stroke whenever she felt like it.

 

A touch on the back of haustronic implant wrapped around her florets neck and a series of electrical impulses from her vines, and the thorns sealing away her florets beautiful face retracted. They left just enough room for Venisin to feed her floret a candy. They took it gratefully, leaning their head into Venisin’s body just slightly harder. Not enough to break their position, but enough to show their gratitude. That this gesture caused the thorns to dig painfully into the side of their face was something Venisin knew they both appreciated.

 

Venisin allowed her leaves to rustle in contentment. Her floret would know it was for them, and settle deeper into the peace and submission currently drowning their thinking mind. She’d let them relax a little bit longer, then bring them back in time for their trip to the fabricators.

 

It hadn’t been easy getting here, and Venisin couldn’t have imagined some of the challenges when she first set foot on the Arboratis–but she also couldn’t have imagined how worth it those difficulties would be. She felt truly blessed. And she knew her floret did too.

 

There was a quiet whisper from her floret, still in position, still facing the ground, still encased in thorns from the nose up.

 

But her hearing came from her vines, so she understood the words: 

 

 

Venisin wondered briefly whether that was directed at her, then shook her head and decided that it didn’t matter.