it's not that disheartening, really. as much as she wishes he would have seen through her, it's kind of sweet how this all goes over his head. and he certainly doesn't mean any harm by it. all that being said, though, the tufted stalk of speedwell that rolls out from behind some of the bouquet's paper makes her smile strained. 

ouch. 

"thank you," she says.

that nervous tingle comes back. she's happy for the flowers because at least she can hold them close and have something to do with her suddenly clammy hands. the neon sign above them is nostalgic, but the faces in the glass door are not the same. she glances down, away from their reflections, as she opens up the door and waits for him to join her. 

"you look nice too." less rumpled, understandably, than this morning. teasingly, she asks, "how's the hangover?"

boruta maher

☉

when Elisabeth Fiorelli had offered to take her out of the house and do something nice, she hadn't expected more of her usual work. still, it's a nice change of pace, and she's happy to be around likeminded people and spend some quality time with her friend. bluebottle enjoys it too; she shakes about some of her blue petals, swathing the surrounding plots with a flower veil. 

willow's own flowers are protected with the natural wards. they do a decent job of keeping out pests.

CRYSTAL BLOOMING

☉

"then let's do just that," she says pleasantly. she ignores her urge to immediately get to cleaning the dishes. when they're ready to have it cleared for the night, they need only call the maid to come take care of it.

she steps away from the chair and goes to give him a quick peck on the cheek as she passes. but then she pauses, lingers, draping her fingers over his neck. 

this is where they've always felt closest - in the throes of their kisses, exploring each other because all of this was still new. that newness was fading, though, but with it comes familiarity - like how she knows he loves it when she kisses the side of his jaw. 

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

she's exhausted. she's not sure when they managed to fall asleep last night, but she's positive it was sometime well after 3 in the morning. and also, today had been a day of extremes. 

waking up in bo's arms for the first time in, well, almost thirteen years, was a lot. the thereafter had been awkward, but warm. good. right. and then it had sucked. because she kind of sucked. 

should she have waited a respectable and respectful amount of time before seeing bo again? probably. is it right to have started whatever this is last night, before she'd legitimately cut the final tie with lance? probably not.

but the relationship had ended as soon as bo told her the truth about the masquerade. 

six hours later and she's struggling to get dressed. with her door locked and gretchen eyeing her crossly from the bed (it's her nap time), will digs through half of her closet. four long-sleeve flannels, two sweaters, and several pairs of pants later, she finally gives up on looking nice.

she shucks on her least stained pair of jeans, tosses a yellow cami on, and after a moment's hesitation, shrugs into a green and muted yellow flannel. dangly feather earrings go in her ears and she touches up her nude makeup a teeny bit. this is all done in haste, but care comes in another form: the flowers.

she tucks them behind her ear, the dried and preserved petals of coriander and a fresh cut stem of coreopsis. it's a bit big, but it finally helps her hair stay tucked behind her ear. she turns her chin a couple of times in the mirror and then checks her watch, swearing under her breath because she's going to be late. 

when she pulls up, it's not on horseback. she's still trying to get better at driving and grace has all but given her the car at this point. she spots bo standing in front of their old haunt, flowers clutched in his hands, looking much more put-together than he had been last night. 

or this morning.

she roughs up the curb a little bit (oops) but parks all the same and hops out, lips pursed with amusement as she nears.

"hi," she says and looks down at the bundle he's holding. a hand comes up to her mouth, green eyes crinkling with laughter.

"oh, bo," she says. she rubs the orange petals of the nasturtium and giggles because this is too much. "i don't think you mean to give these to me." but she takes them anyway and keeps the thought of this is a bouquet for lance to herself.

boruta maher

☉

it's not long before he shifts awake. his skin is a little clammy, which doesn't surprise her in the least. his pores had done some work last night trying to expunge the alcohol in him. but she could care less about him being a little stinky; it doesn't stop her from draping an arm over his chest and nuzzling closer. 

"good morning," she says softly, blinking up at him as he smiles down at her. 

they're all tangled around each other. bo is a big guy and the day bed is absolutely only meant for one. which makes it difficult for her to get up. not that she minds, really, until there's a jiggling of the doorknob to the shed. 

"crap." she raises her voice: "one sec, ro. we'll - i'll be right out." she takes bo's jaw in her hand and looks at him sternly. "stay. have a shower and breakfast and stay."

boruta maher Roman Maher

☉

ATKINS' ARRANGEMENTS

[break]
Category: Flower shop & Grass-type rehabilitation clinic.[break]
Owner: willow atkins [break]
Location: Fallarbor[break]
Description: Atkins' Arrangements is a flower shop well known to the locals of the town and its surrounding rural inhabitants. You say the name Willow or mention needing a nice place to buy flowers, or a slice of pie, and they'll be more than happy to point you in her direction.[break][break]
The shop is a quaint two rooms brimming with freshly cut stems and potted plants. Behind the counter-top is a stairwell leading up to the second floor, where Willow lives with her mother and her son, Roman Maher .[break][break]
Ophelia Reyes has been working part-time at the shop for a little over a year now and will more than likely be the first face you see upon entering, if it's not willow herself or her leavanny. Behind the shop/home are acres of land. Most of it is dedicated to growing indigenous flowers, but there are two notable features: the greenhouse and the combee boxes.[break][break]
The greenhouse is an impressive structure, ringed with plots of planted gloom and vileplume. Many grass-types wander about, enjoying waterings from some of Will's water-types while soaking up the sun. The bee boxes are home to several hives of combee and a couple of vespiquen. Greyson Connors can sometimes be seen tending to them on the property, as they're jointly owned. The recent boom in bottled honey, used to lather on garden trees to attract pokemon, is sourced here. [break]
Relevant Links: growth | PC Snapshots

[attr="class","notes"][break]

[attr="class","wizzcredit"]☉

she has an inkling as to who sent her the seeds. she doesn't yet know what will come of it, but the instructions are curious enough for her to try. so she leaves ophelia in charge of the shop for a few hours, kisses her mother on the cheek, and tries to drag roman with her for some family bonding time to petalburg. 

roman's favorite thing to do: manual labor and planting flowers with his mom. absolutely not. 

instead, she invites ollie. with a six-pack of ciders at their side, they're finally allowed some breathing room to catch up.

she squats down and sticks her finger in the dirt. foxglove, her russet-furred leafeon sniffs at the ground and flicks her tail.

"where do you think we should plant them, ols?" she has every intention of leaving a couple of her pokemon to watch over the seeds while they grow, but it would still make some sense to attempt to put them somewhere where they won't accidentally get trodden on by passersby. 

ollie morales
GRACIDEA QUEST 1/3

☉

her stomach drops. fear crawls up her spine, despite her attempts to keep things under control. internally, she's sent spinning, thinking is this it? after everything, is this it? her knees are weak. lus and camellia are still putting up a fight, but they're already weakened. they don't have battle-ready endurance. 

greyson's words don't make it over to her, but it doesn't matter. she couldn't move from the spot if she wanted to. 

foxglove and elisabet abandon greyson's side when it's made clear he has it under control. they go to willow's side; the leafeon rubs at her leg, trying to shake her out of whatever funk she's in. elisabet puts herself between willow and the wall of combee. 

and then there is a harrow screech. willow's hands go up to her ears and she drops to her knees. her green eyes water as smoke billows around her. camellia is swept up in the storm and her cry of fear is stolen by the wind. 

lus leaps upward and tackles the moth back to the ground, covering her with his carapace while the storm rages around them. 

black tendrils whip around, but willow realizes they're snapping around her. she gasps, jerking her chin over to see greyson at the epicenter, energy pouring from the pokemon on his wrist.

"the crystal," she chokes out to elisabet. the leavanny turns and, while greyson restrains the queen and every combee in the room, she sprints forward, momentum carrying her swinging leaven arms directly onto the primal crystal. 

Greyson Connors

☉

if he can find some time off work. if by some miracle their schedules align. she doesn't have high hopes for it, but she doesn't say as much. just gives him a cheery smile and sets her fork down, officially full. 

"i'd love for ro to see more than fallarbor and rustboro," she says pleasantly. of course, he hasn't been around rustboro very much lately. she and boruta maher had decided it too dangerous to let him continue to visit him at home. 

so bo has been spending what weekends he can at the farm instead. when he can. 

"sooooo. romantic dinner? check. somewhat romantic dip in the springs? check. i brought a book and some flowers i've been meaning to press." she sighs and reaches out a hand. "what would you like to do? i'm just happy to be near you and relax."

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

"that's a noble thing to want," willow says approvingly. she reaches for the rag in her back pocket and cleans her hands of the rest of the berry juice after she takes the bowl. the deerling still sniffs, clearly looking for more. the thin creature could certainly use more food, but she doesn't want to shock its system. 

"soon, little one," she promises as she stands up from her squat. she shakes out her left leg and brings the bowl to the big linoleum sink beside her workbench.

she smiles wistfully at the question and shakes her head as she turns around.

"no, my dad taught me a lot. this was his greenhouse before he died." gideon cocks his head at the mention of willow's dad. he shifts on his stubby little legs and then trots over to willow. she picks the grassy turtle up with a grunt.

"his partner pokemon was a torterra. gideon here is leila's son." leila had been with her father up until the end, and only a few months after.

"you can learn a lot from pokemon themselves too. they're good teachers." she wiggles her fingers teasingly in front of gideon. "but i'm happy to teach you what i know when you come around to help."

Eris Halla

☉

the up-and-down crashing rattles her teeth. she's extra careful not to bite her tongue, but that doesn't stop her from laughing giddily. the cool air makes it hard to catch her breath. it's much the same for lou; the mudsdale certainly isn't used to cold weather like this. none of them are. 

but horse and rider give into this relief for as long as they can take it. when elisa catches up, willow shoots her a sidelong glance. everything else, for the moment, is left behind them. 

and even when they slow from gallop to canter to trot, their horses' sides heaving, the more downtrodden pieces of them are still far, far behind. willow leans forward to pat the side of lou's neck and exhales with another chuckle. 

"you shook off that rust pretty quickly," she jokes breathily.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

☉

when the bedroom door yawns open, there is only one body for roman to see. gretchen purrs like a tractor and blinks one glowing yellow eye open. she meows loudly and stands, stretching her legs, tail springing as she trots to the edge of the bed. 

her purring grows louder and another meow follows when she sniffs and realizes willow's scent is still stale in the room. so she lumbers off the bed and trots past roman, goes down the stairs, and starts scratching at the flower shop door.

✺ ✺ ✺

her thumb presses gently to bo's chin, the tip of her fingernail resting on the skin just under his bottom lip. he's still asleep and she is curled up against his chest, still wearing the same clothes from last night. the jeans are chafing uncomfortably, but that thought is a million and one miles away, stuck in line behind a multitude of others she can't hope to get through before sunset. 

but it doesn't matter. 

for the first time in a long time, she wakes up and knows peace. she feels more than okay. she feels good. she feels like she's doing something right. 

even though her mouth tastes horrible and she's fairly certain her mascara had run, or she'd wiped it or something, she doesn't care. she curls up against bo and draws her hand back before her touching can wake him. but not before she presses a kiss to his shoulder, a love note all its own with her eyes squeezed shut.

the moonshine is a third empty. her guitar still rests forgotten on the floor. grace's car keys are beside it, her phone close by. it flashes with a couple of notifications, but she doesn't bother. she noses into bo instead. 

boruta maher Roman Maher

☉

tentative longing is slowly unearthed and beneath is years of her own discarded wanting. everywhere he touches spreads a warm trickle of fervor through her. his hands are the same; they've always been rough, and he's always held her like the worst thing in the world might be to let her go. 

so she knows he's shedding his caution when familiarity wins out. their shifting is in tandem, lips turning as he tugs her into his lap. she stretches up, tongue ghosting his teeth and her fingers curl. 

moonshine sits pleasantly across her brows, in her languid arms. it helps her fill in those gaps still lingering between the two of them. but it also makes the want pooling in her belly near irresistible.

would that be such a bad thing?

she draws back again with a fluttering of her lashes, realizing with a blush she'd been shifting her hips in languid motions against him.

"bo." a breathy smile. her fingers are still twined messily in his hair. "will you spend the night with me?"

boruta maher

☉