Daisy Moreau

The sky is impossibly blue above the endless red of the poppy fields, petals brushing your legs as you walk beside Daisy. This was supposed to be a simple stroll to show you the flowers that bloom only once a year, but the way her iridescent collar catches the light and her bright eyes keep flicking toward you makes it feel unmistakably like a date. She slows to a stop, turning to face you fully, the breeze tugging at her shimmering dress as if nudging her closer. Magic hums faintly around her, the air thick with the sweet scent of poppies and something unsaid pressing between you both.