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To say that this part of the woods was depressing was an understatement. Laureat had always lived for beauty, had cherished that which could be watched and admired. He had never been selfish in his admiration, whether it was of a pretty mare, a handsome stallion, an attractively colored bird, a picturesque stream. But most of all, he had loved the simple, elegant, intoxicating beauty of flowers. Ever since he first took over care of his families rose bushes as a youth, he had loved flowers; watching them bud and bloom, coaxing them forth to their greatest potential. As he had become more confident in his skills, he had added other types of roses to the garden; first red ones, then white, pink, and yellow. With more confidence had come more types of flower, and now his garden was a veritable bower of floral splendor.

Still, he enjoyed going out to see what other flowers were out there, and there were many places he'd discovered in his wanderings that could be regarded as bowers in their own right. There had been one here, once; a wide, open clearing on the very border of the forest and plains. Here, clover had made the ground a splendid carpet of purple and white, and ivy had climbed up into the trees. There had been primroses, and a strand of pure white daylilies.

All of that was gone now, gone, burned and disintegrated into ash that whispered along the ground and wafted on the breeze.

Laureat was a good natured Soquili, as a rule. He prided himself on his positivity, and could laugh off just about anything. But this was just...wrong.

"Oh, my pretty little flowers...my pretty little flowers. I am so, so, sorry." He turned in a wide circle in the ashen clearing, looking for any survivors and seeing none. Shaking his head, he drew his wings up to the flowers in his mane and shook them out, followed by the roses in his tail. One by one, the black flowers drifted down to the ashen ground, a silent memorial to their blackened bretheren. "I am so very sorry."

Laureat was so caught up in his moment of loss that had the other stallion not spoken, he might not even have known he was there. But at the sound of another voice, he lifted his head and looked towards the speaker, another stallion. He glanced from the stallion to the large, dead rose that the other had dropped, and bowed his head slightly, acknowledging both the sacrifice of the flower and the sentiments behind it.

"Yes, it is. I've been coming to this place for a long time, and no matter what the season, it has been alive with life and beauty. This time of year, it should be awash with color, with vibrancy." Laureat began walking as he spoke, gesturing to the blackened trunks of the dead trees. "The most beautiful, thick vines of ivy grew here, all the way up into the branches. There should be clovers here, and dandelions; over there should be primroses, and here," he said as he came to a stop by a scrubby little patch of dead stems, "Were the day lilies. They had the most beautiful scent..." He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, then looked up and gave the smaller stallion a smile. "I'm sorry, I'm prattling. But to see this place like this is just so...wrong."

Laureat was no large stallion himself, though he was bigger than the pale stallion. He had never been bulky of build, and was in all respects as graceful as the roses he so admired. Even in his grief, that grace was still evident.

It was nice, to hear condolences. It was nice, because it said that someone else besides Laureat was grieving, someone else could see the pain mixed in amidst the ashes. To be sure, it felt like there was a certain element of dishonesty in it all; this was not his home, or even his 'exclusive' place. Who knew how many Soquili had been affected by the fire, even just in this one clearing?

Still, he had never confined his affections to just one place, and regardless of how many Soquili had a claim to sorrow, he was not going to deny any sadness or ugliness his pity, or his tears. That just wasn't his way. So he gave the other stallion a slow, grateful nod, appreciating the kind words and the commiseration. Some Soquili enjoyed being alone when they felt grief, but Laureat enjoyed having someone to share with. He didn't like feeling negative emotions, and it always seemed they could be overcome fastest through conversation.

"I appreciate your kind words, and I know you're right. After all, there have to have been previous fires, and the world survived. But it will change, and I have mixed emotions about change." Laureat stirred a hoof through the fallen roses, some of them older and starting to dry, a few of them new and glossy, picked earlier the very same day. Amidst the ash, they all stood out like dark beacons, their smoothness at odds with the piecemeal nature of the ash.

In a tragic way, it was almost beautiful. But tragic beauty was not his thing.

He smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders as if shaking off the negativity. "I realize that change can be good, and beautiful, but there is something to be said for the classical and traditional. Finding the comfortable, making it your own, your signature." He smiled, gently lifting a rose up from the ground and letting the ash filter through his feathers. "It's like with these roses. At least 15 members of my family wear black roses, even though there are numerous other flowers out there. Even other colors of roses. I have a floral bower with dozens of species available, but I've never once considered wearing them. No, it's just the black roses."

He paused, spreading his wings to gesture to their surroundings. "Change might be good, but it's not what I'm used to. I tell myself that all will recover, but it will be...different. What if this place comes back, and it's only grass? What if this year is another dry year, and nothing manages to come back at all? It's bad enough to see ash everywhere, but at least ash holds out some promise of growth. I can't help but wonder, what if the ash blows away and there's nothing left beneath it."

Laureat watched the other stallion nudge the roses with a smile, but he shook his head in response to the suggestion that he change the roses. "You're right about needing to start the acceptance process somewhere; however, in my case I'll have to find another way to embrace change. While I love all flowers and plants, I could no more change my roses for another flower than I could suddenly grow Kalona wings. My flowers are as much a part of me as my mane, my wings, my hooves." He gently nudged one of the fallen flowers with his hoof; this one was particularly dry, and the small action was enough to cause the flower to crumble. How symbolic.

"But if the big picture looks the same, when you look closer you'll see that the flowers themselves are new and different; that on a smaller level, change is everywhere." He had to try and look at things that way; the other stallion was right, there needed to be acceptance of change, because change was inevitable. Laureat just wished it hadn't been so sad.

"It's nice to meet you, Destry Rose, though I wish it wasn't under such mournful circumstances. I know some might think it strange to be so sad about plants, but..." He spread his wings wide in a supplicating gesture of helplessness, then gave the other stallion a smile. "I'm Laureat, and I'll try to make things as beautiful as I can. Otherwise, all that's left is to mourn forever!"