willow's breath comes in short, puffing curls. the cold brings a red flush to her cheeks, but she's okay with a sweater wrapped around her neck, knit cap over her ears, and well-worn gloves over her hands. the reins are relaxed in her left hand, right against her thigh. 

the cold doesn't bother her so much, not with the way the snow dances with the soot in the sky. there's a quiet blanket that always accompanies the snowfall, especially up in fallarbor.

her smile is thin now at the somewhat dreary discussion, but there's relief in this discussion. she hasn't really talked about it with anyone. how could she? the only people closest to her in life were fighting the damn thing?

how does her own fear withstand that? how can she ever look at bo or lance or ollie or greyson and say, i was terrified? 

"i wondered if you spent it with any family. or friends in town. i should have reached out to you." she sighs. "...roman and mom and me, we all just waited. held our breaths. ro fell asleep with me; he wouldn't let me leave his room. i just kept looking at him and thinking this isn't fair."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

☉

"really?" she asks, brightening. "that'd be...really nice actually." it matters if he follows through with it. actions speak louder than words, ollie morales 's voice reminds her. but she chooses to believe it, and to believe in him. what else is there but to find joy in promises? 

"i honestly don't know. he hates doing anything on the farm except pissing off the tauros. bo's been teaching him kickboxing and he loves that so something physical might work.

"and maybe you can try to teach him our language." because he most certainly has never had any interest in the language of flowers from her. granted, it does allow her to leave passive aggressive stems on top of his playstation when he's particularly annoying. (like fish geranium)

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

willow's short herself - standing at a proud 5'2" - but her coat still hangs dumbly long on the girl. it doesn't matter though. when they make the short trek through the snow to the greenhouse, they'll be able to pull off some of their layers anyway. the flower shop sits at a comfortable temperature, but the greenhouse is warm enough to sweat. 

fun electric bill she has during these months. the solar panels on her roof help though.

elisabet opens the door for them and cocks her head curiously at the ailed deerling. willow lets eris pass and then scoops up the pokemon in her arms, cradling it under its chest and back end. it panics momentarily but she shushes gently and draws the door closed behind her with her foot. 

her land stretches out before them - tauros with weighted blankets over their backs eye them from their circular pen. her mudsdales poke their heads out from their stable stalls, snorting cold clouds into the air when they spy her. 

"just follow the sand on the ground so you don't slip," she says. the mixture of snow and fallarbor's ever-present soot can make the fields quite slippery. paths of sand tell a story of the order of her chores, branching towards the greenhouse and to her shed, the stable, the pen, and then some curious hexagonal structures far to the edge of the field, near the tree-line.

"so tell me about your deerling. what does he usually eat and is he eating normally?"

Eris Halla

☉

she's been alone for so long, maybe that's why it's alright. she's comfortable with solitude. her isolation is a paradise when she's amidst her flowers and her pokemon. and they don't really have their ups and downs. it's easy, despite their conflicting schedules. it's comfortable. it works. 

it's something to ground her in the rest of all this crazy and for that, she's thankful. 

"i know you're trying," she says and she twirls in his arms, drawing them around herself as she presses her back against him. hip to hip, cheek to neck (he's tall, damn it). 

"that's why i like you so much. that and you're pretty easy on the eyes." she peeks up at him with a smug smile.

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

"i did," she says. she didn't. her light sleeping is almost as bad as not sleeping at all, but all she can chalk it up to is how new this is. part of her wants to shower and to hold herself and to remind herself that she made this decision because she wanted it, that it was nice. that it felt good.

she doesn't protest as he pulls her back down. the kiss is a reminder of last night - a good reminder - and it helps pull her out of her head. 

she sighs into him, tangles her fingers gently in his hair, and rubs their noses together.

"can we see it? the ocean and the light? it should still be early..."

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

his snickering does not go unnoticed. she'd smack him topside the head if she wasn't worried he's already concussed. and if she felt comfortable enough to take her hands off the wheel. the rain comes down steadily, despite her attempting to will it away. 

"he's good," she says, with some measure of confidence. "busy. we see each other when we can." she shrugs. "it's hard, y'know? he lives all the way in lilycove."

finally, the old car rumbles up the overgrown lawn to willow's house. her relief is palpable. the engine dies down and the rain replaces its rumble with heavy thumps on the roof. she grabs ollie's papers and stuffs it under her coat (because she's not going to give him a chance to ruin them before she uncovers the truth). 

"c'mon. let's get you inside." she'll set him up proper in the shed later. maybe the rain will let up by then. and before he can get out of the car, she hops out and jogs over to the side, ready to be his shoulder to lean on should he need it.

ollie morales

☉

it's not the dance she wanted. it's not the dance she should have had. she blames herself for not finding him sooner, for taking ollie morales's hand instead of his and tugging him away from a fight before it could have been fought. 

but here he offers her a hand, despite the bruises on his face. he is here - he is accepting her, despite everything that comes with her. breathless, feeling a fool, she takes it and finds a comfort in the way she fits against him. a remnant from their dances in her kitchen.

"sometimes i wonder why you stick around," she says gently, suddenly. "i just...it's a lot. and i know it can be hard for you."

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

and it's all the things it should be. the sheets tangle and the duvet slips off the bed and they explore each other with a delicate sort of hunger, a restrained coupling of feelings misplaced. and afterwards, in those early hours when the rest of the world sleeps, she rolls on her side and closes her eyes. 

feels his fluttering heartbeat against her back and his arm wrapped around her side.

then grey light is filtering into the bedroom and spilling over the floor, their discarded clothes. they've drifted in their sleep, but that doesn't surprise her. she's slept alone for so long. she sits up, draws the sheet up to cover herself, and looks down at his sleeping form. 

touches his shoulder, the back of his neck. trails her finger down the curvature of his spine. her smile is warm, but it is small, when he finally stirs. 

"good morning, sleepy."

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

the exhausted glaze in willow's eyes leaves at once when she fully gets over her surprise and takes stock of the situation. the deerling that pops out of its ball is weak and worrisome enough, but she's more worried about the flush on the poor girl's cheeks. 

elisabet steps aside as willow skirts around the counter. she tugs off her gloves and tosses them, then shrugs out of her coat. the layered flannel she has underneath is warm enough. 

"we'll get him right as rain, but first - you look like you were just fished out of the river. take my coat and i can hang yours to dry."

not wanting to pressure her, she sets her coat on a flower stand and steps behind her. the quaint hand-painted sign clatters as it's flipped around. elisabet doesn't quite understand time, but knows the little flip means they're closed, so she goes about checking the vases to make sure they have enough water.

she tucks one of her many stray locks behind her ear and says, "we'll have to take him out back to my greenhouse, but it's nice and warm in there."

Eris Halla

☉

her offer had been genuine, but she knows elisa well enough to expect the wave of her hand and the dismissal. when the woman agrees to do something, she does it - whether it's horseback riding or bringing a homecooked meal when eleanor has a rough day.

lou shifts his weight when willow saddles him. his head bobs and he chews his bit impatiently. "oh, don't be a brat," she says as she gives him a hefty pat on his large neck. 

lotus' own clopping hooves spur lou to move and the pair settle into a neat walk. willow's hips sway and the rhythm is a comfort, familiar enough she need only hold the reins loosely, attentive to elisa. 

she blinks. "gods, don't be! we've all been through so much. with the meteor and everything, i've just been trying to keep my head on straight. i'm sure you were too."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

☉

it's one of ophelia's off days and adelaide is out sick, which leaves willow with her hair falling out of her bun and her temper short. roman's been sour enough all morning to make all the flowers in their house wilt, but will put her foot down - he finally relented and promised to watch his grandmother today. 

the compromise was that willow would let him shoot zombies on-screen all day.

so with one worry abated, she tends to the storefront alongside elisabet, her leavanny. ducking in and out of the back door to do her routine farm work is tiresome and more dangerous than it should be. once, she's so distracted watching the road for potential customers ambling up her street that she nearly gets clipped by one of her tauros. 

buckwheat blows out from his nostrils and will stumbles back, landing on her ass on the hard, half-frozen dirt. grimacing, she gets back up, dusts herself off, and turns when elisabet's antennae chitter, alerting will to another customer. 

normally, she would just close the shop, but the winter months are hard for florists. her greenhouse is full of plots with resting and rehabilitating grass-types, but they can be tended to after hours. and the pay there is measly because she doesn't have the heart to charge more. 

"sorry, sorry - welcome to atkins' arrangements. what can i - oh." she stamps the dirt off her boots and looks up, and then adjusts her gaze to look down. she recovers. 

"how can i help you, honey?"

Eris Halla

☉

willow, on the other hand, has been riding consistently for a few years now, more so now that she has time on her hands. even her mudbray, lucky, has evolved since she's been able to work the livestock more.

granted, willow could have gone a few more months without having to take care of two fully grown horses alongside the rest of her duties. 

not many of her friends have mounts or have the time to ride. roman shows zero interest and would rather sit inside and play video games all day. her mother's in no shape to ride and the only other person who consistently did so is buried a few miles away. 

"oh, please," she says as she feeds lou some apple slices. the mudsdale nickers appreciatively, tail whisking away pests. 

"we can walk them for all i care. i'm just happy for the company." lou snorts as though to say he cares very much if that's all they do. 

Elisabeth Fiorelli

☉

his breath blossoms warmth on her cheek, the side of her neck. she draws the glass closer to herself with a slow, shaky intake of her own breath. hands at her waist, she shimmies her hips back into him; a sheepish blush crawls up the back of her neck. 

she tilts her head and stares out at the sea, feeling his lips on her skin as the waves crash against the shore. 

"but what if i don't want to take it slowly?" she whispers, voice low and wanting. 

LANCE VOLLANS

☉