#or two. technically. HDFSDHFHSDFH

[ephemeralove]

seeds of hope

As the Ethereal Ball is only a little ways away, students and staff are doing their best to prepare via dancing lessons, outfit shopping, and event planning. This year a vendor arrives in town with a wagon full of flowers from all over the world in full bloom. They’re quite the romantic though, so luckily for you, they’re even offering corsage and boutonniere lessons. gift your crush, significant other, sworn enemy, or whoever it may be a lovely floral arrangement that you hand-picked and handmade! They won’t judge if it looks ugly, but.. maybe the person next to you is better at arranging.

"Er... Well, maybe you shouldn't pick that one either, Miss."

For what is far and away from the first time, Katarina pulls her hand back, still yet to touch a flower in the many minutes she's been here. Still half of that time has seen the vendor become all but her personal advisor, the bulk of the floral guidance left to their assistant while he himself remained perpetually a grimace away from tut-tut-tutting at the mage's next choice.

"Oh..." The deep purple of the flower nearly glows as the sun passes through its thin petals, a sight like unto butterfly wings. Delicate and beautiful in equal measure, and still somehow so understated while surrounded by the bright colors of its brethren. "Um..."

The vendor heaves a sigh, more pitying than scornful. "That there's monkshood -- or aconite, if you're one o' them fancy folks. Thought you said you liked this fella?"

"I--!" The immediate protest splinters into a flush-faced squeak that only works against her. "No! I, I said... they're important to me..."

"Mm. Right." And this must be what a shit-eating grin looks like. The vendor taps his finger against the cart-- rather solidly, in fact-- a couple times. "Well, ennyway, this thing's all wrong for you, Miss. Means 'hatred' and all that."

"...Oh." Her palm lays against her chest as she visibly deflates.

"Cripes," he hisses under his breath. "Now that's a crowd. Here--" A sturdy hand against her shoulder gently ushers her in the direction of another, though Katarina all but locks up as she realizes just who it is. "--this lady here's been doing just fine. Let her help you, aye?"

"W-wai--" But he's gone, and Katarina is left with arms held to her chest as if to cradle her chosen flowers -- if only she'd manage to choose in the first place. The rosy tint of her cheeks returns in full force, her gaze dropping to the ground. "...Um... H-hello... Queen Caeda..."

@arcaeda