Welcome to Gaia! ::

Krishna had awoken to the knowledge that he would need to scrub graffiti off of his outer walls... again. It seemed that the local gangs or "artists" took it personally that he would go outside every morning to check the stone and scrub it clean. The longer the paint sat, the harder it was to remove, so he never let it sit longer than absolutely necessary. Even then, it took time (and funds) with which he did not always wish to part. The proud man just refused to let the urchins win

So he power washed. He scrubbed down the more difficult spots. Finally, he slathered on the white paint that had been a trademark of the building from the first payment the florist had made on it. Padma's Bouquet would not decline as long as its owner had breath in his body and strength in his hands. He would do whatever it took to keep its doors open and its product of the best quality. Part of that had meant extending his offerings beyond what one could find at any standard flower shop - as well as try and instill customer loyalty, no matter how deplorable the taste of said customer.

The slight sound of metal rubbing against his bars attracted Krishna's attention first. He had no real idea what could be making that sound - it did not have the persistence of a file being used to try and break in - but it was enough for him to step out of the office. The bookkeeping would wait...and it was a good thing, because the bicycle strategically chained to the window and the tentative call indicated a customer needed his expertise.

"Welcome. I am Krishna Dhawan, owner of the shop. How may I help you?"

The florist nodded in agreement. Personally, he thought it was always be a pleasure for another to be graced with his presence; it was just that few took the time to realize it. In this case, the nod was also indicative of his own pleasure. The young man was soft on the eyes and immediately interesting due to the dichtomy of his features. Fine, well-cared for hair, bright citrine eyes... contrasted with shabby, monochrome clothes.

Which further contrasted with his request for an artisan arrangement and some further details about potential delivery of said arrangement. An introduction--Quenton, another unusual aspect to his customer--and then finally what it was the youth sought. Some might be overwhelmed by the domineering bent to the conversation, but Krishna simply remained alert and nodded to indicate he had heard what was said. The less speaking he had to do, the better as far as he was concerned.

When Quenton began to list off the desired plants for his arrangement, Krishna grabbed a pen from his pocket and reached for a scrap piece of paper lying on the front desk. He carefully wrote down each plant name. Rainbow brows knit together as the florist processed each flower requested, translating them mentally as each was read off. The language of the flowers was always fascinating - most of the time because his customers were woefully ignorant of the meanings behind their chosen orders. Not so in the case, as became readily apparent with each mentioned bloom.

Calla lilies, often in wedding bouquets - symbolizing "magnificent beauty" with their own trumpting luster. Ambrosia, a hardier plant appropriate for "love returned". Heart's ease, sometimes known as the pansy in the European magazines he read, for "thought." Ivy was a bit trickier because of multiple meanings, whether for "marriage," "fidelity" or dedication to pleasing the other party. Regardless, each element of this truly romantic arrangement combined, florally speaking, into a love ballad. Quenton immediately went up in Krishna's estimation for the obvious care he had taken into planning said song.

It would be a challenge, but the shop owner welcomed it. If he could complete this obviously highly desired arrangement, then it would likely mean more than just his immediate sale. A good online review from a high demand customer like this could mean much for him in terms of business. Just as much at stake was Krishna's own very inflated sense of pride.

"Odd indeed," he finally agreed, caping his pen and replacing it into his pocket. "But not beyond my reach. An arrangement in a basket might be best to show off each component. I can draw a mock up and pull a sample of each plant for you, if you wish. I can deliver your order for you, if you wish, for a slightly higher fee. You spoke of ivy - do you wish the sprig or simply the vines and leaves?"

Krishna continued taking notes. Leaves and vines. Wanted a sketch. The florist acknowledged the gender of the intended reciepent with a nod of his head and a final scribbled note. He had no problem with a same sex couple, to say the least, being homosexual himself. He simply saw no need to draw attention to the latter fact. He tapped the pen in his hand against his chin as he thought about discretion. "Home delivery, rather than a business setting, is more discrete. Daytime deliveries likewise draw less attention."

The florist had enough now to begin drawing a preliminary sketch, but to do so would leave his customer with nothing to do. As he reached for another piece of paper upon which to make his drawing, his brain was already thinking of baskets. A low, oval shape, like a milk maid would use to gather flowers? Or a strong square with an angular handle for modernity and masculinity? He would give Quenton a chance to inspect his merchandise before showing him the design... and perhaps some of his choices would influence it.

"The calla lilies are with the other wedding flowers--to the right of the store. Look for terracotta pots and white, trumpet blooms. You may prefer the small, upon inspection; if you do, your symbolism will be the same. The ambrosia is over towards the left, in the area I have the cacti and aloe vera, as they need similiar conditions." The florist looked up from his work to point to each of these locations with clear purpose. The decisions of large or small calla lillies, the particular color of ambrosia desired, all of these would factor into his final design. If his client made poor decisions--however unlikely, given the obvious planning and care he had exhibited thuse far--then Krishna could appropriately guide him after the fact. "Ambrosia comes in purple, pink, yellow, and white, so you may have a color preference as well. The Heart's Ease and Ivy are in the hanging baskets next to the wedding flower section, should you wish to inspect them as well."

Clearing his throat, Krishna reached for the bottle of water at the edge of the counter. He unscrewed the cap and took a long sip. Speaking to customers were exhausting and required him to speak much morethan usual. But, thus far, the appointment was going swimmingly. After he finished his drink, he explained, "After you decide the size of the calla lilies and color of ambrosia, I will color my sketch to give you a mock up before I build it. Acceptable?"

Had he known of the comparison to a nymph, the often stoic Krishna may very well have laughed. His rainbow mane was a source of pride and vanity, perhaps just a bit more than any other extension of himself. As it was, he was pulling out a carefully maintained box of colored pencils from a drawer. He always started in graphite, but customers almost always wanted to see the designs in color. It made sense; color could make or break a piece. Something one fell in love with in monochrome might seem garish when oranges or blues were added.

He had already sketched out a square basket with an equally square handle. Sharp lines, clean angles, useful but aesthetically pleasing all at once. Perfect. Orderly. Restrained. Much like the customer who now walked from place to place, his fingers lightly hovering over the flowers he inspected. As the other supplied him with more information, he felt more confidence in his choice. Small calla lilies. White ambrosia. Simple. Elegant.

With this new knowledge, he placed in the basket an alternating pattern of calla lilies and ambrosia. Switching from gray to green, he carefully drew in ivy wrapped around the brim and handle of the basket. The leaves came next, a supporting layer of peeping green between creamy flowers. No ribbon, no mixed greens. It would ruin the elegance. To the compliment to his shop, he noticably brightened. His back was just a bit straighter. His motions just a bit more deliberate as he inclined his head to receive the gifted words, "I work hard to keep it so."

The florist nodded to indicate he had heard Quenton's question, adding in a few more tendrils of ivy to his sketch before lowering the green colored pencil and taking up the violet one to dot in the heart's ease. Not too many - just enough to delineate between the two different types of white flowers. The color and shape would direct the eye to take in the whole picture. He was not a man given to conversation, so he answered simply, "About a decade. Since I was 18."

Lowering the violet pencil with a flourish, he motioned for his customer to come closer. He turned the sketch over to Quenton for inspection. The practiced toss of his hair and steady grip indicated complete expectation that his sketch would meet with satisfaction. Still, he waited to hear the praise. His customer had thus far been more than obliging, but he needed it. His ears practically burned for it.

Plants grew towards the light. Much like his wares, Krishna did the same. He kept a professional distance, of course, but he hungrily devoured the descriptive words his client gave him. He knew little of Quenton but his diction, his clear artistic eye... both impressed him and revealed more to the youth's taste than his shabby clothes suggested. The florist bowed his head at his client's acceptance, "Very good."

He reached for a pre-printed pad of paper with the appropriate blanks for filling in a reciepent's name and address, as well as that of the purchaser, and slid it to Quenton along with a pen. "Here, please. I will ring up your total."

Krishna moved from his current position over to the register and began to type in the materials needed to construct the design. It was as much for inventory as it was for determining the price. The specificity of the order and the unique arrangement would take time, and then there was the delivery charge... finally, he nodded, as much to himself as anyone. "Including delivery and tax, the total is $178.30."

There were absolutely no problems with the payment. The card slid easily and was promptly handed back to its owner. The signed reciept was taken and then an additional copy given to Quenton for his own records.

The florist gave a formal nod back and followed his customer to the door. Quenton was a rare, truly pleasurable client. Knowledgable, but willing to take direction, trusting in his own artistic vision. Better still, a promising repeat customer who would hopefully recommend him to others. It was with the utmost sincerity that he responded, "As do I."

With the youth safely off on his bike, Krishna turned and set to work. A piece of art needed to be created.