it is true that in order for a plant to grow it must requre a certain amount of care. plentiful soil. a gentle watering. the endearment of the sun. a seed does not simply sprout from the ground like some man made circus tent, picking itself up and going from place to place. no, a seed is delicate and definite. perhaps that is why it has come to be known as quite the anomaly for our leading lady to be named after such a fine and fickle thing. hyacinth. it's easy on the lips, like it had belonged there far before you had ever learned it's origin. perhaps her mother had hoped for our little darling to end up more like the humble plant, she looked enough like one after all. pretty and white right out of the womb, like some bleached variation to the pretty lilly that she owed her namesake.

perhaps it was fate too, that decided our girl would be destined for more befitting endevours. the purity of her baby coat soon left, much like her youth--red marring the once fine robes like blood on a wall. a grim precurser for what lied just ahead, like some sort of sick cosmic joke. deep and vibrant it bloomed across the lenght of her spine, like ink across wet partchment. like flowers.