Pansy Mandrake was a late bloomer. Growing up in a dry, desolate desert, it wasn’t until her late teens that she realized how special she really was. One summer, her grandma came to visit from the city. With her she brought hugs, stories, and a lone orchid. Pansy couldn’t help but laugh out loud when her grandma handed her the orchid. There was no way it was going to survive under her care. She was surprised it had lasted this long.
Her grandma wouldn’t hear it, though.
“You can. You will. You have.”
Pansy’s grandma whispered these words to her since the day she entered the world. They weren’t words of comfort, but words of certainty and determination. If her grandma said it was so, then it was so. Without much faith, Pansy took the orchid and followed her grandma’s instructions. No one had a green thumb like her, so maybe she knew something that Pansy didn’t. Not only did the orchid survive, it flourished. It wasn’t long before Pansy’s room was filled with flowers and plants from across the globe, living together, growing together. Sprouting from Pansy’s desires.
They grew for her. They danced for her. They were a piece of her.
It turned out Pansy could have turned her desert into an oasis at any time. Her grandma knew it all along because she could do the same. She also knew of a growing community of similarly talented individuals who she introduced Pansy to when she came to visit.
When Pansy met them, she was taken aback by the things they could do: disappear, levitate, manipúlate fire. She fit right in with her effortless brilliance. Strangers quickly became family and the intermixing of their abilities felt like their own oasis in a desert of normality.