An odd bouquet, and odd mention of custom. Floriography- writing, or rather communication, via florals. He'd been mostly unaware of it's existence except in the periphery of what colour roses or carnations one should or should not buy for a date to the Prom. Not that he'd much gone to dances or had dates in high school except by rare, rare occasion. He'd determined to take the deciphering as a challenge, and he'd meant it. And he knew just the place to start decoding- the metropolitan library's main branch.
Vervain, white violets and flowering almond, maidenhair, and four leaf clover were the names he mentioned. A funny sort of bouquet. Quenton paged through a thin, but wide book from the 1800s. Each page had stunning plate illustrations of pressed flower and herb versions of whichever entry was opposite. It read like a catalog, but seemed to predate the organization of thinks in boring alphabetic lists without embellishment. He liked it for that.
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In a moleskin he took down notes for each entry:
Vervain - Enchantment, White Violet- take a chance, Flowering Almond - Hope, Maidenhair - Discretion, Four Leaf Clover - Be mine
Vervain - Enchantment, White Violet- take a chance, Flowering Almond - Hope, Maidenhair - Discretion, Four Leaf Clover - Be mine
A hopeful proposition because I'm enchanting, but a wish to be discrete? Well, now. Quenton put his pen down, cupping his chin while he looked at the notes a few times. It did not argue with the catch of his fingers, or the quickness of the flashing of Alexander's throat as they hid away from the sun and spoke of jewels and fastenings. They'd talked a little of other things they could do together- starts of a friendship at least, dating perhaps? He wanted to.
I want to learn of love. To court someone, and care for their happiness as if it were my own. No, to make it so, and each smile of theirs, or tear, be an arrow to wound my heart as sweet pain. And be their pillar, and they mine- haven to each others arms and eyes. For it to happen, I need ...to court then First step, use his choice of communication and our point of reference- Floriography.
Quenton kept leafing, writing down the possibles to include in a return delivery. It was going to be difficult, given the majority of the city florists didn't carry anything beyond the run-of-the-mill types of flowers.
Calla Lilies - Magnificent beauty, Ambrosia - reciprocation, Hearts Easr - occupation of thoughts, and Ivy for fidelity
It didn't take but a moment to put the books on the back-to-shelves cart and hit up the computers. FTD? No, all their items were premades- no customization on the level he wanted. They didn't have ambrosia anyway. It seemed silly to go to a competitor green house. He needed an artisan florist. A quick check on the yellow pages turned up a single place. A quick stop to the DCTA bus schedules and he had times and stations mapped out if he wanted to take the bus? Or bike? It wasn't bad weather for bike rides.
