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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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nikki

faye
she/her
24
february 24th
santalune city, kalos
bisexual
bug hater
cadet
single
10 height
10 height
she's ripping wings off of butterflies.
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stay for a while [m]
POSTED ON Jan 10, 2020 3:26:41 GMT
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@ken


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The liveliness is somewhat calming, despite the noise.[break][break]

It drowns out even the most unwelcome thoughts, allowing her to work peacefully, without interruption or distractions. Realistically, she shouldn't even be here, suffering through the motions of her day job. No, it's an important day... One she marks with bitterness every year. Sure, it's the new year and everyone's celebrating. She should be too and yet, she stays to what she knows, stays on course to tough out the rest of the day.[break][break]

It always seems to be the longest, after all.[break][break]

The pleasant smell of flowers envelopes her as she watches the crowds come and go. Some stop, gasps of delight escaping their mouths. Her flowers are the prettiest, she supposes. A plethora of colors kept fresh and alive. It's her trade, the only one she finds comfort in anymore. Besides... It's something to do, something to occupy her mind. When she gardens, snipping flowers at their stems to display in her shop, her thoughts are vacant. A welcome change in pace from the deep-seated rage, one she ushers in with open arms.[break][break]

At some point, she stops seeing faces, only colorful masses rushing past in a blur. A sigh escapes her, purple eyes fluttering shut. Boredom creeps upon her, slow at first before gaining momentum. Most of the festival-goers tend to flock toward the many food stalls, excitement coming off them in waves. She can't blame them. The food is delicious and no one wants to eat a flower. Perhaps she should pack up for the night, try again tomorrow? The woman glances over her shoulder, the old butterfly patterned kimono suddenly feeling suffocating without the distraction. There's still so many flowers left... Among them, her sister's favorite sits in all its light purple glory. Wisteria. It's not a popular one, the scent proving to be a bit too strong for some and there's always the worry that the flowered vines are already wilted. Her sister never cared, however, always squealing with delight when admiring their beauty.[break][break]

She moves to brush hesitant fingers against the petals, sorrow rising from the depths of her body. It threatens to overpower her and she knows in that moment that wearing her sister's favorite kimono on this god awful day was the worst decision she could make. She wanted to honor her memory, keep her alive somehow. Instead, she only made it harder for herself to survive the day.[break][break]

The presence of another lingers at the front of her stall and she sees movement in the corner of her eye, earning a slightly startled gasp from the woman. Her hand drops limply to her side, eyes darting toward the person with curiosity. Funny, she thought no one else would pay her little stall any mind. Perhaps she was wrong. Her lips curl into a smile, this one feeling more painful than the rest. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, taking graceful steps toward the person. Recognition doesn't settle in just yet and for now, she doesn't know that it's him, the man who judged her with his silence alone. All she sees is a customer to distract her and that's enough for her. "Would you like a flower, sir?"



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POSTED ON Feb 17, 2020 21:32:15 GMT
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The voices around him are deafening, nearly suffocating his small existence with the nonstop chatter.

His gaze casts over the large crowd. It would be so easy to infiltrate their group to incite chaos, manipulate them. His eyes narrow at the thought, brows scrunching together. He’s disgusted by the thought. It’s this type of rapport that sets him out from the norm and incapable of properly understanding just how people can live their lives so carefree. Should he feel envious? A part of him wants to, yet his conditioning makes him unable to.

Still, the jubilation is well enough to set him slightly at ease, appealing to the small part of him that wants to live to the fullest. Even underneath his cool, passionless expression his spirits are slightly lifted at the sight of nearby pokemon accompanying their trainers with equal glee.

Just a single whiff of the food nearby from the many stalls arouses the appetite. He feels his stomach silently rumble together, urging him to indulge himself with some of the festival food nearby. He approaches silently purchasing a few meat skewers to satiate his growing hunger. His eyes widen in pleasant surprise from the delicate flavor of the meat marinated in soy sauce. Its surface just slightly charred to bring in a wonderful smoky flavor.

Satisfying his hunger alone isn’t enough though as he thinks about the pokemon accompanying him. With little to no hesitation, he purchases additional items better suited for their diet.

Continuing on with his pointless window shopping, he’s suddenly overtaken by the sweet pleasant scent of flowers. His eyes arch in curiosity wondering who would make such a poor business venture in setting up a flower booth during a festival. He follows after the scent, his blue eyes scanning over the nearby booths until he finally locks onto the nearby booth.

His brows scrunch together once more in irritation as he’s slightly taken aback by the familiar sight of a butterfly hairpin. He immediately remembers the unpleasant woman he’d met previously. His approach is slow, quiet, stopping only when he’s in front of the booth. Seeing her butterfly haori, his stomach nearly churns in disgust as he remembers the disdainful treatment she had given her Butterfree. It’s almost ironic that she wears such a thing despite not being able to even look at a bug.

Just as he’s prepared himself to leave, he suddenly catches her attention as she looks upwards at him with a sweet smile, offering him a flower. How revolting, he quietly thinks to himself, disgusted by the false smile she hides behind.
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played by

nikki

faye
she/her
24
february 24th
santalune city, kalos
bisexual
bug hater
cadet
single
10 height
10 height
she's ripping wings off of butterflies.
awards
37 posts
faye samos DOLLARS
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faye samos
stay for a while [m]
POSTED ON Feb 24, 2020 3:08:27 GMT
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she should have noticed who he was sooner. those eyes are hard to forget, even when they're blank as a canvas. or, even the hair should have been a dead giveaway. instead, it doesn't register at first, getting lost in the sea of thoughts in her mind. faintly she notices the familiar presence but turns away before realization dawns on her, instead rotating to face the different flowers.

she's thankful for the distraction, for the opportunity to do something other than wallow in her mind. it's too much, suffocating and heavy on her fragile being. the wisteria lingers in her peripheral, taunting yet alluring against the variety of plants. no, she can't. and so, she hums softly, if only to distract herself from the presence of the flower, and reaches for a white rose. "you know," she murmurs, a poor attempt at starting idle conversation. she really doubts this man is interested in her flowers, in her little pathetic stall when there's better options around. "some say the white rose is a symbol of hope, of new beginnings." it's stupid to tell a stranger one of the meanings behind a flower, really, but she's grasping at straws... the desperate need to keep him here, to stay distracted, is overwhelming. sure, she could just pack up and go home instead of bothering this man but what would she be going home to? an empty house filled to the brim with painful reminders of death? no, she won't, she can't.

the woman turns toward him, then, idle fingers beginning to twirl the rose's stem as a sheepish laugh begins to escape her. "i'm sorry," she mumbles. "i'm sure you could care less about the symbolism of flowers." her eyes watch the petals spin, transfixed for a moment. it truly is a beautiful flower... even with such a plain color. the bright red is popular, sure, but there's something elegant and pure about a white rose. a soft smile rises to her lips for a brief moment before it falters and she startles back to attention, eyes ripping away from the petals and straight onto his face.

it dawns on her, then, that she knows him.

that silent guy from the clearing. what is he doing here? how did she not realize sooner? her mouth parts with surprise, eyes widening by the second. her cheeks flush with embarrassment and she practically flounders, at a loss for words for the first time since originally meeting him and that deep stare of his. "you," she gasps. "what are you doing here?" it's not like it wasn't unlikely to run into him here, right? it's a festival, after all, and most of hoenn's citizens are filtering through the crowd. she supposes it's just... surprising that he, with his stoic nature, would actually willingly come to an event like this. the rose stills in her hands and her grip tightens on it, small thorns digging into her fingers.

after a few moments of simply staring at him, probably looking utterly confused and a little torn, she hesitantly offers the rose to him. "here," she says, glancing down toward her feet. it's awkward and she knows she's making it worse but she picked the flower for him, even if she didn't realize it was him. the least she can do is give it to him. "you can give it to someone special."
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tobuyukikorimizuumiashika
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POSTED ON Mar 9, 2020 18:01:32 GMT
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His somber gaze slowly drifts away from florist, lingering onto the white rose in her soft delicate hands. If only for a moment, he’s attracted by her flowery words, wishing that it were that easy to forget and start life over. Lulling himself with silence, he’s slowly reminded of her despicable mistreatment towards her Butterfree, Tobu – a stark contrast between the current persona she’s masquerading behind.

Yet, one cannot help but question why she even bothers... Why she bothers in having its company, not when she’s so panic-stricken around them. His eyes narrow in annoyance at her quip, breaking away from his typically stoic expression as he has no rebuttal. Inwardly he knows that there’s truth in the florist’s remark. There’s very little that he does care about in this world, much less the pretty symbolism of flowers.

”It’s a festival.” he scoffs to her crude question. His mouth opens to ask her the same thing, but he shuts his mouth already knowing the answer to the pointless question. Unable to look at the woman properly, he instead shifts his gaze once more onto the rose she grips so tightly. Frowning at the sight of the thorns prickling into her soft, delicate hands, he almost wants to let her bleed.

Yet, having witnessed her fragility, he reaches his hand out to grab at her wrist to open her palm rather than accept her gesture. The white flower drops to the ground, yet he doesn’t care instead occupying his time in making sure that the woman’s hand is okay. ”Idiot.” he quietly admonishes. Without saying another word, he pulls out a small medicinal balm and gently applies it over her tiny wounds. His expression calms seeing no other blemishes on her hand.

Looking back to the white flower on the ground and its relatively unharmed appearance, he carefully picks it up, avoiding the thorns and presents it back to her. ”Here.”
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played by

nikki

faye
she/her
24
february 24th
santalune city, kalos
bisexual
bug hater
cadet
single
10 height
10 height
she's ripping wings off of butterflies.
awards
37 posts
faye samos DOLLARS
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faye samos
stay for a while [m]
POSTED ON Apr 6, 2020 23:53:30 GMT
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silence engulfs him, her, everything around them. it feels as though something shifts with the world all at once, the noise and the excitement fading and fading until they're in their own little bubble. a small corner away from the rest of the population, just them and this weird something lying between. it's almost unsettling in a way she doesn't comprehend. usually silence is welcome, comforting even... and yet, with him, with her, it's odd. she wants to fill the air with words and sentences and meaning. nothing comes and she stands there, at a loss of what to say, what to do.

and then, he's scoffing out a remark about this being a festival and she's fighting to keep the eye roll at bay. it comes despite her attempts to stay civil, calm, tranquil. purple eyes roll and she's unable to stop herself. "obviously," she murmurs, polite tone wavering slightly with annoyance. it's difficult to maintain that polite air and he's difficult and god, she doesn't understand why he keeps coming around. is there some magnetic pull? is there something more? she doesn't get it, doesn't want to entertain thoughts of such a nature any further. "i didn't think you would come to such a thing." it's honest and her head tilts as if expecting an explanation. he doesn't owe her one and with the understanding that she probably won't get one, she falls silent.

his eyes avoid her own and it almost strikes her as odd. this is the man who stared into her soul in a clearing, who analyzed her eyes with his own for far too long to not feel comfortable staring at them again. she wants to ask about it, wants to poke and prod until she's satisfied with the answer. the chance never comes, however, as his frown distracts her and her eyes follow his to land on her hands, on the flower that digs sharp thorns into soft skin.

it falls away and she's gasping, wrist instinctively struggling at the sudden contact. ah, but his touch is gentle, perhaps even kind, and any resistance dies in her bones. "not an idiot," she murmurs as if he doesn't know what he's talking about. the examination of her hand feels uncomfortable, as if he's looking at more than just the cuts and pricks of red. she doesn't like it and yet, she's almost sorry when it ends. the spreading of medicinal balm is quick, efficient, and the touch is gone.

his expression calms, perhaps with satisfaction that she's no longer injured, and it's a strange sight to see. soothing, pleasant, and she doesn't like the effect it has on her. her gaze averts away from him, drifting toward the crowds as they pass with faceless people and silent moving mouths. it's still just him and her in this small booth, tucked away in some corner of the world that she can't recognize. is it normal to feel the world continue on around you and to not even care because it doesn't compare to this? an odd feeling, an unsettling realization, and she's shoving it away for later.

"what?" an eyebrow quirks up and she can't help but lean in, curious and confused all at once. he's giving her back the flower she offered him? "why?" faye can't help but question him, question the intention. it's probably nothing, not relating in the slightest to her earlier sentiments when offering the flora to him in the first place. perhaps he doesn't even want it and simply just wants to return it back to her possession. either way, her hand is tentative as it rises, joining his at the stalk of the rose. she bites at the skin of her bottom lip as their hands brush together and then she's stilling her actions, eyes lifting from pale petals to his eyes. "i was giving it to you," she whispers as if there's a fragile thing between them and if she speaks too harshly, too heavily, it'll crumble into ruins. "why would you give it back?" faye doesn't understand, even as she tries to weigh the possibilities in her mind. her thoughts settle on one and it brings about an avoidance of his eyes, a heat she doesn't recognize rising to the skin of her cheeks. she's foolish and misunderstanding the situation... that's all.
sorry for the wait bby ;u;
@ken
tobuyukikorimizuumiashika