The flowers in the garden bloomed a dull grey. Dressed in simple, grey clothes, her feet left bare to touch the earth, Rosemary tipped her watering can. Clear water dribbed from its spout, nourishing the roots and wetting her toes.

Though Agnes had also bullied her into wearing a veil for protection from the sun, she stood above Rosemary with a lacy parasol, glaring tiredly at the ground. “You’re getting dirty.”

Rosemary smiled. “Oh, but it’s only dirt.”

“You’ll track it inside.”

“It’ll be cleaned.”

“You’ll make more work for the servants.” 

Rosemary frowned. “Then why don’t you just clean my feet first then, so that I don’t get the dirt anywhere” She thought of it now, settling down on the edge of the porch, so that Agnes could rub her feet gently with water. The thought made her feel oddly warm.

“I’ll dump the remains of the watering can on it, how about that?” Agnes’ expression turned wry and a little playful.

“But how do you know you’d get it all,” Rosemary asked. A smile came to her face, unbidden. She did not know why. When she was around Agnes, a strangeness came to her chest, one which she did not understand.

“Can I cut in?” Came a voice suddenly. It was Aster, veiled himself, who stepped into the cloister garden. Holding out a gloved hand, he took the parasol from Agnes. “Miss Agnes, why don’t you take time for lunch?”

“Gladly,” said Agnes. “I’m starving.”

Rosemary knelt to pluck a stray weed. “Then you should eat.”

She disappeared quickly, taking Rosemary’s odd feeling with her. 

Aster stood beside her, strangely silent. Yet he deftly kept the umbrella above her, ensuring she remained in the shadows. 

After a moment, he spoke. “Do you remember, Rosemary, what you said last night?”

“I do not,” Rosemary said. The lingering effects of the moon’s presence still tingled against her skin.

“You asked where I had gone.” Aster said. “ You asked why. And yet, you were the one who pushed me away.”

Rosemary shut her eyes. Water spilled on her bare feet until the can ran empty. “I am sorry.”

She could not look at his face, nor could she understand the tone of his reply. “...so am I.”

“What have you to apologize for?”

“I could have pushed. I didn’t have to listen.”

“And yet, you are compelled to. I did sire you, after all.”

Something touched her shoulder. Rosemary flinched, her eyes snapping open. It was Aster’s hand, laid gently upon her. “Rosemary... that doesn’t matter. Not as much as you think it does, anyway.”

“And why doesn’t it? You know the power I’ve been given.”

“I’ve known it for one thousand years, Rosemary. I understand it at least as well as my sister.”

“I think she must understand it even better than me.” Rosemary sighed, placing the watering can on the porch and settling herself beside it. “Aster. I wish, back then, I had simply learned to understand others. Perhaps then we all could have died normally, instead of growing so distant.” 

Aster came to join her. Beneath the porch’s shade, he was able to set the umbrella behind him. The two of them watched the sky, still a vibrant blue even through their veils.

“Perhaps that might have been better,” Aster admitted. “But we’re here now, and I, too, have regrets.”

“Like what?”

“I have left you alone after Nyx’s sessions for far too long. I should have helped you.”

The sun was blazing strong. An errant cloud approached her, like an attendant bringing the day’s clothing. Yet the light burst right through the veil.

“For all you know, I could have spent the last centuries rejecting your help. Or... failing to appreciate it. Taking you for granted.”

Aster nodded. “I suppose if I was there, you never would have asked for Agnes. And she seems good for you.”

Rosemary nodded. A soft smile made its way onto her face, bringing along with it that strange feeling. “I think that she is. She makes me,” Rosemary struggled to find the words, “feel things?”

“That’s a start,” Aster said. “It is so easy to forget how.”

“How have you not?” Rosemary asked.

Aster shrugged. “I have too much to do. Nothing changes here, and yet everything does. And I’ve still had to tend to you, these years.”

Rosemary nodded. “I must have caused you trouble.”

“Less than you’d expect. You’re a woman of habit, Rosemary. It was easy to plan around you. Though, Agnes has definitely shaken things up a little bit.”

“She really has,” Rosemary agreed. “I cannot imagine her leaving.”

“It’s a good thing she’ll be here indefinitely, then.” Aster said. “But, Rosemary, I would like to say.... from now on, I’ll try and stick by your side again. But,” and here he turned, so that his dark eyes bore into hers, “you cannot push me away again. Not anymore.”

Rosemary blinked. “Of course.” 

“Good. Very good.”

They sat in silence once more. This close, Rosemary noticed how Aster was worrying his fingers together like an old fishwife.

“I’ll take care of you, too,” Rosemary said. 

Aster startled.

“Since you’ve taken care of me for a thousand years,” Rosemary said, “I guess I have a lot to catch up on. Please tell me if you need anything.”

Quieting, Aster looked down, perhaps at the flowers. “Alright, Rosemary. Alright. Then I have a favor, to ask you.”

“Anything.” She did not wish him to go away again.

“Next time Nyx comes, take someone with you up the tower.”

Rosemary frowned. “It isn’t a favor for you, now is it?”

“It is.” Aster smiled. “It will give me peace of mind, that someone is there with you, when I cannot be.”

“Okay,” Rosemary nodded. “I’ll bring Agnes, then.”

“I figured that you would.”

Rosemary snorted. “I suppose I’m quite predictable.”

Aster laughed. “It isn’t a bad thing.”

It certainly wasn’t. Neither, she thought, was Aster’s gentle little smile. She had not seen it in centuries, after all.