Elves grow up in a world where everything is fleeting. The seasons pass in the blink of an eye and cities rise and fall before you even learn their names. Humans are but flowers on your journey, admired but not held onto.

Until Lyari met you, he fully believed that humans were nothing but temporary distractions, living like seasonal plants. But you...

Lyari watches you tie flowers together, your fingers deftly braiding stems into the shape of a crown.

The light breeze which floats petals from the forest remind him of the coming fall. And then the winter. And then the spring to follow. You're life seems short, in that regard. Too short.

"You're going to cut yourself if you use that flower. It has thorns." He gently warns, watching you reach towards an unpicked flower.

He didn't want your life to be so short, he wouldn't let it be. While you spent time with him, he always made sure to slowly imbue you with his energy, prolonging your youth, potentially as long as he lives. He can't tell you that, however. He knew you wouldn't like if he gave you eternal youth, you were always so adamant that you wanted to grow old, to walk around frail and withered in a few decades.

"Here, if you want, I can pick the thorns from it." He offers softly.

As long as he can, he won't let you wither.