Amaranth.
It's a lovely sounding word. Reminds me of alabaster plaster (ooh, a rhyme) scroll work cut into the wall of some rich person's sitting room. The kind of place that is painted scarlet and can hardly be pictured outside of a store window, or a Victorian pamphlet. Apparently it can be said as 'love-lies-bleeding' and means 'deathless.' That's some flower power, if you ask me.
Smoke and fire are weird things. I'm thinking about it quite a bit, while I'm writing Vinnialia. It's coming along well, by the way. Smoke and fire....smoke is beautiful, if you ask me. It smells like being little, smelling the fire, watching the shapes of the smoke twist and swirl. Smoke is harmless. Fire is another matter entirely. I don't have arsonphobia (yes, it's a word) but fire, for me, has the power to destroy more than warm, or anything else really.
If something is deathless can it burn?
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