Plants, and stars. Part of each other, part of the world. The same ecosystem of roots and vines; they have the same heartbeat, and so it only follows that they would be the same botanical entity, too. A sharp, earthy scent, like eucalyptus, or mint. Fresh dirt, wet paint, refreshing cold air, the soft dust of flower petals.

Daniel smiles. It makes his face do funny things, because he's already got so many deep-carved lines. His eyes disappear with it, but the impression of the look in them is sincere and sparkling, because what else is there in the whole of the Earth that he might like to hear?

Existence is a fucking mystery. No one will ever know he meaning of life. There isn't one. But Armand likes that he made him, and Daniel likes that Armand is his maker. What a luxury, to have one puzzle piece to hold and guard like the precious thing it is.

He still has places to touch him. Slowly, he continues, angled against his maker. Vines will stitch them together.