"Should I apologize?" he asked, his voice gentle, a faint flush on his cheeks.
"No," Sylvara said immediately, her vines brushing his hair back with tender care. "You should rest. Maybe you've caught a chill."
"I'm immortal," he replied gently, his smile unwavering. "I don't catch colds."
"Maybe it's the garden," Nyxsha muttered, her golden eyes narrowing as she jabbed a claw toward Sylvara.
"You've been eating weird berries. Or maybe it's her fault—her pollen's floating everywhere."
Sylvara huffed, her vines swirling indignantly, scattering a faint cloud of pollen.
"My pollen is medicinal," she said, her amber eyes flashing with mock offense.
"Your pollen is also floating in the air like sparkly fog," Nyxsha shot back, her tail thumping the moss. "Pretty sure even I nearly sneezed yesterday."
"Then maybe you should stop sniffing everything like a dog," Virelya murmured, her coils shifting as she smirked.
