Nozomi traced the lines with a light touch, her fingers barely brushing against the soft skin of Eli's back. She followed the curve of the branch as it made its way from shoulder to shoulder, then turned her attention to the petals raining down. Yellow, orange, red, detailed in their simplicity as they fell. A single flower bloomed at the base of Eli's spine, spread wide as if to catch the sun. Nozomi felt the raised skin, felt its smoothness and marveled at the intricate lines and life like shading. She pressed her palm against it, and Eli shivered.

"Eto yesho tsvetochki, a yagodki vperedi."

The Russian syllables were clumsy on Nozomi's tongue. Eli repeated them gently, the words worn and familiar like the edges of a loved book.

"These are just flowers, the berries will come soon."

And indeed, there they were. Small berries dotted the leaves adorning the branch, light blue and round. The words lay right above them, marking the base of Eli's neck with their crisp, foreign shapes. Nozomi repeated them, feeling the old proverb settle into the grooves of her tongue.

"Did they?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"The berries. Did they come?"

"What do you think?"

Nozomi kissed the back of Eli's neck, feeling her shiver once more. Then she pressed a kiss to the words, then lower, until she reached the center of the blooming sunflower. Eli laughed, pushed her away, and Nozomi returned to kiss her lips. Eli's turn began, then, her eyes closing as Nozomi pushed her back onto the bed and her hands running down the trail of stars coating Nozomi's arms.

"Make a wish," she murmured, half to herself. She felt the curve of Nozomi's lips against her chest, sighing at the sensation.

"It's already been granted," Nozomi whispered, and then no more words were said.