Diss From a Rose

[archiveofarethusa]

Cyprian wanted many things. Peace. Sleep. Quiet.
   
    Quiet would be great.
   
    Sometimes, being a mystic sucked.
   
    A rose squealed, "Look at that hair! I bet my richest soil he pollinates his own kind!"
   
    "Hardly. He is utterly repulsive. He certainly only pollinates himself."
   
    Cyprian glared witheringly at the roses, to no effect. "I will pick you and feed you to a starving kitten, you know."
   
    "That's how Rose got mulched," whispered a rose. "Poor Rose. She's still around somewhere. Probably."
   
    There was a beautiful silence.
   
    "...He's still a self-pollinator, though."
   
    Cyprian never trampled plants. But he thought about it.