⟼ vesryn blooms

@m. lalisa .ᐟ Yangyang let a faint smile form on his lips as he watched her admire the bouquet. He had gotten used to her particular way of moving through the shop, gaze tending to linger on the flowers a little longer than most - he appreciated that she seemed to actually like them. He knew the blooms meant more than just a decoration - there was always something of an unspoken appreciation beyond the surface for her specifically chosen flowers.

"I do my best," he chuckled weakly, tone light with a touch of modesty. "Though, you've got good taste.. makes my job easier to find the best ones."

He watched as she slipped her glasses off, eyes catching the light in a way that made him pause briefly. He was no stranger to those with different looks but the golden hue was striking, obviously otherworldly. He knew better than to comment on those things. He'd never missed the strong presence she brought with her but he wasn't lost on something that glinted behind the golden flakes. The drow could see the sadness that tugged at her but he didn't pry, he wasn't the type to make the business of others his own. But he noticed things, the way she held herself, the slight dip in her voice - it was something of a routine, something he found morbidly interesting.

"You're welcome, as always," he replied softly, offering a small nod.

He wasn't beyond accepting payment but his eyebrow rose, never surprised at how generous she could be. "You know, I believe I said last time you didn't have to pay," he pointed out, accepting it with a shake of his head, "I think you've done plenty for the shop thus far."

Her next question made him pause, and he shrugged lightly, smile never reaching his eyes. "I would have to say we aren't too far off on how we're doing," he answered before gesturing around, "The shop keeps me grounded enough to not think too much." It wasn't like they'd shared their stories like authors exchanging work but it didn't take a genius to assume both had the ability to tell tales far too long and far too deep. She never seemed much for small talk, and he wasn't either, but he found the rare, brief conversation to be different. Worth paying attention to, he decided.

@l. yangyang .ᐟ If there was one consolation of this day, it had to be this — the friendship (should she call it that? The word was vague in meaning to her and she couldn't shake the feeling she was impeding with its nuance) she had cultivated with the flower shop owner. Lisa had stumbled upon it one day, in the midst of a (small) panic attack induced by the need for peonies, and never really brought her business elsewhere. While she worked heavily with florists during the spring and summer mock ups for her magazine this shop held a special place in her heart. The peonies were the prettiest and fullest she had ever seen and the bouquets (she sweats they’re strung together by some sort of magic) that he put together were breathtaking. This shop was her secret for those days when peonies were needed and she didn't want to share it, selfishly, with other people. His intonation of being busy made the corner of her lips curl slightly — a gesture unseen if you didn’t know what to look for — amusement flashing in her covered visage slightly. “Oh, I’m grand,” she whispered, eyeing the bouquet behind darkened glasses.

The floral arrangement was, once again, absolutely beautiful. “You never disappoint, do you?” She asked out loud as she reached up to remove her glasses. For once, in a long time, she allowed her natural eye color to shine. The gold speckled irises were a uncommon anomaly among the sirens, only the oldest of Persephone’s attendants holding the coveted color. Lisa preferred the darkness of brown orbs, but she couldn’t have been bothered to change them today. Folding her glasses, she tucked them away in the pocket of her coat before reaching out delicately clad gloved hands to cradle the artistic bouquet. She smiled softly, albeit sadly, as her eyes traced the lines of white peonies adorned with complimenting blossoms. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of cash; Lisa was a good tipper and she prided herself on supporting artists, so this was nothing when it came to paying for custom art. “How have you been?” she asked as she slid the cash over to the shop owner. Casual conversation never really sat well with Lisa but for some reason she felt compelled to always exchange pleasantries with him.

@m. lalisa .ᐟ Settling one of his newest creations in the display fridge, he shifted everything around to look presentable before moving back to his spot, taking a glance over his pending orders. His eyebrows pulled together slightly upon seeing a familiar name and it finally reminded him of the day, gaze shifting when the little bell above the door rang. Had it been so long already? He was wondering just where his time went to watch a whole year go by and not notice. He shook off his disappointment for the time being and straightened.

'Busiest day so far,' he mused, gesturing around to the empty store as he moved towards the cooler in the back. 'How are you doing?' It wasn't the smartest thing to ask but he felt the need to check in, in some way, collecting the tied up bouquet and moving back to the counter. It wasn't so much the words but the mild sentiment behind them; he didn't know the story and never needed to, he was far too familiar with grief and pain. Reaching to rip the little order receipt down, he rolled it to slide right under the edge of the ribbon.

He held them out, careful of drooping or awkward hand placement, deciding no other words were needed.

@l. yangyang .ᐟ The day started off… well, to say it lightly. She had woken up at 3am with labored breathing and tears in her eyes. The one day a year that has haunted her for… ever. Her hands trembled as she gripped the sheets and all of a sudden the image playing in her head would not leave. The anguished cries. The scream of horror. His lifeless smile. She would never forgive herself for being unable to protect the only person she had loved. And that’s how the sun found her — curled up in an armchair away from the floor to ceiling windows of her penthouse suite, golden wings cocooning her as she sobbed silently. The shadows were a comfort — the only thing able to understand her — but even now it felt like a slight. Hours passed before she was able to pull herself together, her body contorting and transitioning into the human skin she was so used to now. Breakfast was long forgotten, the thought of eating was enough to make her wretch. The confines of her apartment was suffocating… it felt like the walls were closing in on her, mocking her, whispering taunts of her incompetence. That’s how she ended up here, the quaint little flower shop that carried the prettiest peonies she had ever come across. The quaint little flower shop that created the most beautiful bouquets she had ever laid eyes on… that adorned his gravestone. She pushed through the front door, eyes clad with Louis Vuitton sunglasses and her head covered with a Gucci black shawl, before silently gliding up to the front counter. Lisa paused for a moment before she tapped her finger once upon the counter top. “Busy?” She asked softly, voice hoarse from silent screams.

@m. lalisa .ᐟ Yangyang was, to say the least, lost in his own world as he traced the outline of a drawn out aquatic rose, wondering just what would happen if he were to slip back into his realm to collect even one. His lips pursed, fuzzy antenna twitching out as he thought of the last time he'd seen one — he really knew better than to linger too long on thoughts of his past or his previous home but a glimpse wouldn't hurt, would it? He had no customers nor lingering orders and he didn't expect any pickups until later on; he wasn't very aware of the date starred on his calender. Resting his cheek against his palm and leaning against the counter, it only took a small flick of his wrist for the shimmering, purple vortex to begin opening, the scenery of the Underdark appearing, though fuzzy. It would only take a few steps to go back, that wasn't so bad — what's the worst that could happen? With a furrow of his brow, he brushed the portal away and closed his sketch book, pushing is aside along with any thoughts of the past. He decided to busy himself with putting together pre-arranged sets; if he kept his hands busy, he wouldn't be tempted to go on a little hunt.