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And just like that, the heatwave breaks.
The heavy, suffocating, overpowering summer air is swept away by autumn winds, and they carry with them the cool relief of change.
The Queen walks the gardens; admires the flowers before they're gone, the multicolored leaves before they fall. With her as always is the Knight, following a dutiful half-step behind.
And alongside them- not following per se, but orbiting; dancing around the two as if she follows her own path, but never straying from them- is the Fool.
The blooms aren't as beautiful as they were in the spring, but the Knight takes one and gives it to the Queen nonetheless. She takes it, and places a kiss on the Knight's offered hand.
The Fool darts in and takes the Knight's other hand, pressing her lips to it before twirling to the other side of the pair and doing the same to the Queen.
The Knight rolls her eyes as the Fool jingles nimbly away, and the Queen giggles, and all is as it should be.
