Nene, Parallel scenes I

These are two short scenes that take place near the beginning and near the end of the story.
I knelt quietly, the fragrance of the garden heavy around me.
'Nene,' he said, in the deep hiss that was my only image of him. 'How is today, Nene?'
'Beautiful. The sun is white gold silk and the sky fresh dew. The air has that sheen of a cool summer morning and the flowers are laden with scent. The mooncloud is late this year; it is just barely blooming.' I reached out and stroked the little blossoms, their blue ruffles like velvet.
'And how are you, Nene?' he asked, dismissing the day with a turn of his voice.
'Tired,' I laughed, and it sounded only a little strange. 'I danced too late last night, and now my eyes regret.' We were silent, and it was as though I could feel him breathe. 'I am wearing my favourite dress.'
'White, with circles and lines of blue.'
'Yes. Made to match the mooncloud.'
'Nene.'
'I cannot stay long, today.'
'No.' He paused, as though he saw my thoughts. 'Sing for me.'
I tipped my head back to lean against the stone, and sang of silver skies and an ebon moon imprisoned aloft by a melody of alabaster.
'An old song,' he said, musingly. 'Older and more restless than I.'
'Restless?' I asked idly. 'I had not thought it so.'
'It is restless on your voice, Nene.'
My fingers cradled a mooncloud flower and I began to cry. 'I must go,' I said. He said nothing. I plucked the flower, cupping it in my palms, so fragile and delicate. I turned to face the square of darkness. 'Farewell,' I said softly, letting the flower fall from my hands and, blown by my breath, drift into the night. Remember me, I whispered in my mind. Tears slipped down my cheeks and I stumbled to my feet, prepared to flee.
'Thank you, Nene.'