those who are able to grow and harvest all the way in fallarbor have always impressed him. the soil is rough, lifeless, and the weather is the same. but still, even from this far away, the sight of the glowing greenhouse is enough to spark hope.

aromal scents waft towards them as they approach.

"this looks...amazing."

willow atkins

☉

her heart swells, pride and validation at the forefront. there are many who marvel at the work she's done, at the life she's built, but it feels different looking at it through lance's eyes. watching his light up, smile crack. her hand flexes in his and she steps just a bit closer, blaming the cold. 

"just wait 'til you see inside," she says with a laugh.




she flicks the interior lights on as they enter. the greenhouse's inhabitants stir awake. a patch of roselia shuffle their roses at her as she enters, releasing a sweet scent in greeting.

"some of them are my own. they prefer being plotted in the colder months. and back there are my clients' partners. i tend to them, mend them until they're ready to go home." she shakes her head. "a lot of people don't realize the maintenance that comes with grass-types."

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

"gods..."

such an expression is only reserved for times where he is truly too stunned to speak. like this, clearly, as he marvels at the various inhabitants in the greenhouse.

"no, they really don't."

instead of stepping away from her to walk around the room, he tugs her along with him.

"i know we're not supposed to have favorites, but which one's yours?"

willow atkins

☉

the look on his face has her own beaming. a leafeon that'd been curled up by a space heater stretches her legs and trots over to the pair. she mroos softly and gets onto her hind legs, front pawing at willow's knees. willow crouches and gathers the girl up in her arms. 

"would you believe me if i said i don't? how could i? they're all so important to their ecosystems. the roselia give me beautiful roses in june. the gossifleur pollinate my flowers and keep them strong and healthy. each of them perform their own little miracles."

she hefts the leafeon. "foxglove here purifies the air and has helped cure a fair share of ailments."

there are a couple of wooden chairs in the center of the room, swathed in blankets, surrounded by books. hanging plants sway under the string lights, moved by the warm air flowing about the room. 

she takes a seat and foxglove settles neatly in her lap. "what about you? favorite? no judgments, i promise."

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

lance regards the leafeon with a smile, gentle in the way he reaches his hand over to let it approach for a sniff should it wish to. regardless, he's joining willow by the chairs, sitting next to her.

"that must be why the air feels great in here."

his answer comes easily.

"western redbud."

a fond memory returns and he makes no attempts to hide the way it illuminates across his expression.

"we used to have one in our garden. my, uh, my daughter loved it. she'd collect any stray flowers off the ground and keep them at her desk."

willow atkins

☉

oh. her cheeks redden and she thinks, silly me, and feels embarrassed she'd misunderstood his question. but before she has time to backtrack, to say the evergreens, arborvitae's soft needles fanning in her mind, he mentions something that takes her aback. 

"does she still like flowers? you ought to bring her around sometime." roman suffers greatly from only child syndrome. perhaps someone else his age around him would be helpful to him. 

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

"she, uh—" words catch in his throat, but after a quick breath, he continues. "she and her mother died two years ago."

it's not the ideal thing to be talking about on their first date but he figures it'd be better for her to know now. she'd find out eventually.

"it's the main reason why i moved here."

willow atkins

☉

she stops fiddling with some hanging ivy. she's at a loss for words, truly, and the pain that stretches across her face betrays her feelings on the matter. she couldn't imagine losing roman. she'd lived through a month of stressing over his whereabouts, but never had she assumed the worst. never could she have assumed the worst.

without her words, she stands and goes to her flower pots, sifting through greenery. thorns threaten her hands, but she slips around them. 

she plucks a single red carnation and goes back to lance. 

"you know the language, don't you?" she says gently.

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

a silent nod meets the single red carnation. a smile breaks, not forced, but still strained.

"they say it gets easier with time."

and still, the smile persists.

"i haven't found that to be true."

willow atkins

☉

she presses the carnation to his hand and then looks away. it's not often that she's brought to tears, especially in front of others, but she has to work to swallow those now. the air feels heavy and there's not much, if anything, she can say to fix it. 

"we have them here, you know. the redbuds. not in fallarbor, but a bit closer to verdanturf. there's a little valley full of them."

she offers a wan smile. "i'll take you sometime."

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

it's often the little things that manage to slip through. the carnation presses into his hand and he can feel the warmth of her presence. suddenly, the air doesn't feel that heavy anymore.

"i'd like that."

smiling, he stands, offering her his hand.

"come on. we're going to be late for our reservation."

willow atkins

☉

he offers his hand and everything seems a little bit brighter, despite it all. she feels her pulse in her ears as she stands, a little too quickly, and slips her fingers around his. but she raises her brows too, frowns in the slightest. 

"reservation...?"

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

"for dinner."

with her hand in his, he leads them out of the greenhouse and towards their destination.

fallarbor is small enough that it takes them no time to arrive.

"it's nothing fancy but from what i read it's comfortable."

and comfort is exactly what he needs right now.

willow atkins

☉