logs | Hacking Up Posies (CATCH-ALL/OPEN)

[ He hadn't planned on stopping in—Dimitri never had much interest in flowers beyond what could be scavenged, eaten, or brewed.

But circumstances have him very suddenly taking up a botanical interest. Even now, he bites back a short cough, a small flower. The petals demand attention, but he can't even begin to identify them, much less find a cure. And so here he is, standing outside of a floral boutique as identified from a network post, wondering if he isn't wasting his time.

Then—a noise. And another. The sound of a hoarse cough draws him to the garden rather than inside the boutique, and the person there... he doesn't seem quite so human. Even then, it's clear he's seen better days. Tabling his other questions for a moment, Dimitri opens with a cautious question, rapping his knuckles on the wall of the store to announce his presence. ]

Sir—are you all right?

[It takes him a few breaths to regain his composure and a little longer before he could reach the front door. His little shop is closed today due to his sudden illness but he was expecting company. That’s why when the door creaks open, Augustine is already in mid rant.]

I had expected you sooner, Hibiki. Honestly, those flower beds won’t dig themselves—

[He trails off suddenly once he realizes that’s not Hibiki rather but some worrisome looking chap with a somewhat sour expression. He stares at them for a brief moment before letting out a hesitant chuckle. For some reason, he doubts this guy is interested in flowers.]

Now before you attempt to rob me–[He states quickly as he places his hands up in mock surrender.] I will have you know I just opened this shop and I BARELY make a profit.

So menace someone else.

[ The careful concern on his face disappears with a sudden sputter as he steps back, as though struck. ]

Rob?

[ does he look like that much of a hooligan??? ]

No, please—be at ease! I'm not here to steal from you.

[ This... is embarrassing. His counsel has warned him here and again about how unapproachable he appears with his resting bitch/sad face, and it's true he'd look awkward with a bouquet of flowers in his arms, but this is new. He gives off strong kicked puppy vibes as he explains himself, reproachful. ]

Apologies, I just heard some noise and thought I'd see what it was...

[A little! Then again, criminals don't have a certain look to them. That much is apparent since the Hierarchy are the biggest crooks of all here. However, that's just Augustine's less than humble opinion.]

You're not? [He lets out an uneasy sigh. Sorry but he's been a little wound up lately.] My mistake, then.

It's been rather daunting lately.

[That's an understatement if anything. While opening a brand new business is rather exhilarating, it also comes with a myriad of issues. Despite being quite long-lived, Augustine didn't foresee half of the issues he's facing now. Then again, he brought all of this upon himself. Nevertheless, he can't help but feel a bit guilty for mistaking a potential client for a burglar. Especially when they're giving him those hurt puppy-dog eyes.]

No need to apologize! If anything, it should be me.

[He lets out a chuckle as he glances at the bouquet they're carrying.]

Oh, where did you get those?

[ He can't blame anyone for jumping at shadows lately. With so many people being imprisoned and the constant effects of the moons, he's been on-edge ever since he'd planted his feet on Stygian soil.

It has to be worse for someone with a fledgling business to protect, so he understands, even if he's going to be self conscious about it for a week.

It's fine. ]

Ah, these—

[ When he shifts the blooms forward, it's clear that "bouquet" is putting it generously. It's an anemic bundle of steadily wilting plants with no aesthetic coordination, and the stems are bruised where they've been picked. They're mostly small, woodland flowers—forget-me-nots, milkweed, small daisies and the like. Nothing extravagant. ]

They are from Serene, mostly. I was wondering if I could ask for your help identifying them. ...I admit I do not patron boutiques like this often otherwise.

[ So he's aware he looks out of place. The fact that he can't recognize these basic flowers is testament enough to that. ]

[He cannot help but look a bit alarmed at the state of these flowers. They look awful for a lack of a better word. While he does possess a love for wild flowers, these look more like weeds than anything else. It's a little disheartening since he's a gardener at heart.]

Goodness, what did you do to them? [He scolds before giving this blond-haired fellow another glance.] You gripped them too tightly! These are flowers not a bundle of sticks.

[A sigh escapes him as he holds out his hands to retrieve the poor wilted flowers. These poor little things won't survive the day this rate.]

Come inside. We'll talk more.

[Follow his lead, Sir Burglar. Inside of the shop are an endless array of exquisite flowers ranging from darkly colored roses, cheerful tulips, and even a couple of purple and blue hydrangeas scattered around the shop. Those are his favorite summer flowers.]

I see you have a fondness for milkweeds and forget-me-nots. That's an interesting mix since one speaks of your undying respect of someone and the other voices your need for dignity and freedom.

[ The poor flowers do look terrible; he's always lacked a delicate hand, and even with some half-hearted care he's managed to lose some petals along the way here. He'd rather be saddled with a pack of lumber or a bundle of sticks than have to keep things so precious and frail. ]

My apologies...

[ But this month has forced a sudden interest in botany, and he follows along without complaint, suddenly surrounded by beautiful flowers in lovely rows, ranging from elegant to playful. Dimitri, to his discredit, does not recognize a single one of these besides the roses.

He cants his head curiously as he takes the name of the blooms in, a little surprised. Milkweeds. Forget-me-nots... ]

You can tell just from looking? Do flowers hold a sort of... meaning?

Indeed, they do.

[He answers after he placed the flowers in nearby empty vase. The vase in question is actually a tall ornate glass he found in a thrift shop nearby. It’s some sort of fancy chalice, one that was probably made for ceremonial practices since it’s far too large for casual usage. He quickly pours cold water into the vase before adding a powdery-like mixture from a small glass vial on his counter. ]

The language of flowers is as complex as the words we speak. Every rose, tulip, and even daffodil harbor a message upon their delicate petals. A message that can be easily decoded with practice.

[He turns towards the man briefly as he places the vase upon a nearby shelf by the window. There’s not much in the means of sunlight in the Netherworld but old habits die hard. He used to decorate his family’s estate with flowers daily since he was the only one who could withstand sunlight outside of their thralls. It was a chore he willingly partook since he loved having hints of green throughout that gloomy manor.]

Why do you ask? Did you receive these flowers from another?

[ The glass vase is more marvelous than his puny bouquet deserves, but the flowers probably appreciate the fresh drink of water and nutrients. Dimitri regards them more carefully than before, as though to decipher this secret meaning of flowers that this other man apparently knows so well.

He's broken out of his wondering by the questions, biting back a tiny grimace. ]

Ah—no, not quite.

[ Actually, he's been coughing them up. But it felt a little uncouth to bring mouth-flowers to someone to inspect, so he sought out some fresh ones instead. ]

I was just hoping to... understand them a little better, I suppose. [ Which is basically the truth. ] There's some sort of flowery blight lately, and these ones had me curious.

[ The plague had, if nothing else, introduced him to plenty of new botanical species. ]

[A frustrated huff escapes the dhampir once the other mentions the plague. There's no rhyme or reason as of why this is happening. No reason at all other than just blaming it all on the mysterious forces that be. Everything about this sudden illness honestly makes no sense to him but here they are.]

…I sure hope those flowers aren't your nasty little throat petals.

[He grumbles while searching for a clean pot. Maybe some hot tea will help soothe the slight ache of his throat. There doesn't seem to be any conventional medicines that help but that won't stop him from trying to find something to ease the pain.]

Well, I suppose you came to the right place. If you wish to know anything about flowers, I'm the one you seek.

[After pouring some water into a pot, he sets it on the stove near the side there and lights the flame. It will take a moment for the water to warm but hopefully that will give them enough time for a decent chat.]

I'm Augustine Rosethrawn, and you are?

[He gestures for him to sit down at the table nearby.]

Typically daisies symbolizes one's need to start anew and you have plenty of daisies in that little bouquet.

[ He very quickly shakes his head. ]

No no, I picked those separately.

[ He is deliberately avoiding having to share the nasty throat petals, he has manners. Imagine if he didn't. Hilarious.

But he looks relieved that Augustine seems willing to help, in whatever capacity he can. Dimitri thinks back to the coughing fit he overheard when he arrived, and the little flash of frustration Augustine shares at the mention of this epidemic. Maybe he's not alone in suffering this, here.

He crosses his arm across his chest as he bows from his shoulders, a knightly gesture, as practiced and formal as his introduction. ]

My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. It is good to meet you, Augustine. Though I regret patroning your store for such a dour subject.

[ The atmosphere is... pleasant, though. The stove bursts into warm life and the flowers are fragrant, almost cozy. He straightens as he takes his seat, eyeing the flimsy little bouquet he brought. The daisy-like flowers droop a petal or two onto the floor. ]

...The flowers seem to be a contradictory message. New beginnings and old respect. I had wondered if they were just a random assortment, but perhaps there's more to it.

[He can't help but sigh a little in relief as he glances towards the flowers. It seems Dimitri had enough sense not to show up at his shop with throat petals. That's good, great even. While Augustine isn't particularly squeamish, he still has certain boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. All jokes aside, he can't help but notice that knightly demeanor. Even though Dimitri looks quite intimidating, he's at least polite. That's a plus, especially since politeness goes a long way with him.]

Honestly, I think it would be a bit odd if these flowers didn't hold some sort of esoteric meaning.

[He turns briefly to check on the water. It's not quite boiling just yet but almost there. Still, he needs to prepare the tea.]

After all, they're pieces of us.

[Or whatever is left of them since they're nothing more than wandering souls. Augustine still has his reservations about all that nonsense but he's slowly accepting that he's no longer alive.]

Maybe there's something or someone you will forever pay homage towards for helping you in times past. Someone you would never forget even as you embark upon a new journey, and maybe---just maybe, this causes you some anxiety?

[He glances quickly at the vase again, his gaze focused upon a bright pink wildflower that almost looks like a pink cloudberry. It's quite beautiful but it's a shame it's missing a petal.]

You have a single dog rose there, a slightly ominous symbol despite their cheerful appearance. [He lets out a thoughtful hum.] If you're coughing up such a flower, then something dubious is at work here.

[Faeries. He's blaming this whole curse on the fair folks.]

[ As Augustine speaks, he demonstrates a demeanor that Dimitri rarely saw in his home country, where men are so often as harsh and solemn as their winters. He's... dignified. Studied in subjects like flowers and the poetry in things.

It's an interesting change of pace. He considers the flowers; overall, they look cute and cheerful despite the wilting. Who could've known how much more meaning there is in a little bundle of blooms? He winces very slightly at Augustine's conjecture. ]

Are you certain you're not a clairvoyant and not a botanist? [ ... ] My mind is always on the people I have left behind.

[ For a number of reasons. It sounds like the flowers have managed to capture a bit of his genuine feelings, ones he tries to set aside until later. ]

But the present demands attention. I think this affliction is an ominous tiding for everyone. [ Maybe there's a hundred people coughing up these dog roses. ] Do you have any idea what might be the cause...? I've never seen plants take root inside someone before.

[ Maybe It's Faeries ]

[Clairvoyant? Augustine can’t help but chuckle a little. He’s been called that before because of his in depth analysis regarding the most mundane things but he isn't clairvoyant. At least not in his humble opinion.]

If I was capable of seeing the future, I would've been able to prevent my own death.

[He comments while steeping the tea. It's ginger tea, by the way. The traditional go-to remedy for managing colds and flus. Just a hint of ginger tea with some raw honey helps to fight against infections. Honey is expensive to get here in Stygia, so Dimitri is in for a treat. Hopefully, he won't mind the sweetness.]

You would do better to look towards the present rather than the past.

[As he searches through the cupboard for two saucers. Augustine was lucky to find some decent kitchenware for cheap at the markets. They're little chipped around edges but thankfully still good enough for use.]

Lamenting over what was will prevent you from receiving whatever blessings you may receive here. However, I'm not without sympathy for your plight.

[He returns to the table and offers Dimitri a cup of tea. He better drink it since that will be the only way to soothe his throat for now. Proper medicine is hard to come-by here, especially since Stygia's resources are so strained.]

It's a curse.

[The dhampir answers plainly before taking a sip from his cup.]

A curse that comes and goes with the seasons like autumn showers.

Edited 2022-11-15 04:53 (UTC)

[ For a moment, he just answers with a small, noncommittal smile, wan and humorless. Death, the great equalizer. None of them were strong, fast, or clever enough to avoid it, it seems. But Augustine seems wiser than he is anyway, giving him advice that he ought to follow, but won't be able to. So he just smiles and sips his tea instead.

Dimitri's lost his sense of taste, but he's lived this way for a long time; he can still faintly smell the clover sweetness of honey, and the overall scent is slightly remedial and sweet. It's soothing; he'll never turn down a nice cup of tea, even if the quality of it is sincerely wasted on him.

He savors the drink, and it does help, if only momentarily. The relief doesn't show on his face though, because his brows furrow slightly instead. So it's not a plague at all, but a curse. ]

Do you know anything else about it? I've only heard bits and pieces... and no word of a cure.

[ And while he can handle some pain and discomfort, the congestion of petals only grows more obvious by the day. ]

Perhaps it will resolve on its own, but I'm not even certain why some are targeted by this "curse" and not others. Curses are born of malice, not spreading thoughtlessly like illnesses do. Or at least, that's what I thought.

Unfortunately, I haven't been too lucky in that aspect.

[He admits with a frown as he sits across from Dimitri. This entire mystery honestly confounds him. Every time he dares to search for answers, he only ends up asking more questions. Perhaps a trip to the grand libraries in Serene is in order? After all, King Amun gave his blessing to comb through the archives. He would be remiss not to take such an offer.]

There is no known cure other than this peculiar draught offered at a local tavern in Mirth. However, I doubt it's a cure but more like a medicine similar to my teas.

[He means Rosuv in Mirth. The man is a local barkeep there and a friend of Assana. He has yet to travel to Mirth to seek this medicine due his deteriorating health. Mentioning his health, a terrible coughing fit nearly gets the better of him the second he was about to sip his tea. He quickly slams the cup back down onto the table as he covers his mouth.]

M-My pardons!

[He manages to croak in between coughs. A couple of red stained pink carnations flutter down to the table. It's a bit embarrassing to say the least but what is concerning is the blood on the petals.]

Edited 2022-11-18 04:07 (UTC)

[ So there might be a salve, but not a cure. His brow furrows together as he listens along, gaze turned intensely and pointlessly at his tea; if it's an ailment that comes with the seasons, do they just hope that time will save them?

He's broken out of his thoughts by the sound of a harsh, wet cough—he snaps his gaze back up at Augustine, eyes widening at the edges. Quick to set his mug aside, he hovers over to his side with urgency. ]

—Don't apologize.

[ It's phrased like an order, almost force of habit from his days as a commander, but he says so with only gentle firmness. There's no need for politeness right now. Dimitri isn't disgusted, even as he reaches for one of the petals, which he might mistake for red if not for how the blood smudges onto his gloves, revealing the blush pink underneath.

He doesn't know what this flower is, or what it means. But it's a disarmingly delicate thing for how terrible that cough sounded. Dimitri frowns at him, tight and concerned. ]

Your condition has already deteriorated this far?

I'm afraid so...

[His voice is barely above a whisper now after that terrible cough. His throat was rubbed raw by those pesky petals. It honestly felt like he was coughing up sharp thorns rather than flowers. Even now he struggles to breathe after that terrible coughing fit. Augustine figured that his inhuman lineage would grant him some clemency from this bizarre curse but instead, it only seemed to worsen it.]

Now you see why I earnestly hope to find a cure sooner than later.

[He quickly reaches for a napkin to clean off his bloodstained lips. This terrible illness has definitely taken a turn for the worse in such a short time. It makes him a little nervous about what's to come if this illness persists. Hell, he might have to visit Mirth after all.]

I can't believe my luck. [The dhampir sighs deeply before attempting to take a sip of his tea.] It's as if fate itself conspires against me.

[He just opened this boutique, you see. Augustine was hoping to get some much needed work done earlier but now that's almost impossible. He needs to harvest the remaining autumn blooms and plant the hellebores before first snow. Neither task is all that difficult for him but with this illness, it's virtually impossible.]

If I don't finish planting the hellebores, I fear my little shop won't be open for the winter.

Edited 2022-11-21 04:13 (UTC)

[ His expression is pinched with concern; he's well aware of the discomforts of this disease, though his has only just started bordering on painful. The barest scrape of thorns, rather than a whole cluster of them. The blood is bright and fresh and disturbing, and he quickly makes up his mind. ]

Let me propose this, then: I will investigate that draught from Mirth, and then please allow me to help tend to your plants. All you would need to do is instruct me.

[ He's not a skilled gardener, the days of digging around in the monastery greenhouse brief and long behind him now, but he's good at manual labor and listening to instructions. That... should be enough. ]

It is the least I can do in exchange for your help.

[ Also he will be annoying until Augustine accepts, so. ]

[This is perhaps the second time he's been completely stunned by the helpfulness of strangers. Augustine doesn't know anything about Dimitri other than his name, but yet he's so willing to assist him. This honestly a bit baffling for him since he's not used to everyone so forthright and helpful. It's honestly a bit surprising, especially since vampires like him aren't exactly well liked by mortals.]

Truly? [He questions with a look of genuine surprise.] I would be remiss to ignore your offer, especially now, but aren't you just as unwell as myself?

[While Dimitri isn't coughing up bloody petals, he doesn't want to aggravate Dimitri's illness any further. However, he really doesn't feel well enough to tend to his garden right now. His throat has been rubbed raw by the thorns and he's having difficulties breathing. Trying to tend to that garden now would be close to impossible in such a dismal state.]

If not...then honestly, I accept your terms.

[ Helping others should be something easy and natural—they're all starting from nothing here. Augustine emerged from rock bottom and is trying to establish something he can foster and care for. It's the least he can do to try and shield the early blooms of this business from the incoming winter winds. ]

My case is gentle in comparison to yours, and I am well aware of my physical limits. [ (he isn't) ] So there's no need to worry.

[ His phone is always open if he needs some help. ]

All I ask is that you will continue to teach me. I look forward to working with you, Augustine.

[From Augustine’s experience, the human condition doesn’t make it “natural” to help others without some expectation of reward. That’s why he can’t help but look a bit surprised when Dimitri offers to assist him. He’s so used to struggling through life alone, that he doesn’t know what to say when others offer to help him with anything. It's enough to fluster him into silence.

He wordlessly stares at Dimitri for a moment before slowly nodding in agreement. Having someone else do the gardening for him just for the sake of his knowledge alone is a price he’s willing to pay. Hell, he’ll gladly pay it.]

Therefore, we have an accord.

[The dhampir states with a shockingly cheerful smile. He’s surprised, terribly so, but he’s also quite relieved as well. For all his otherworldly strength and powers, he can barely lift a shovel at this point of his illness.]

Come, we have much work to do. I have a whole patch of hellebores to plant and only a fraction of time to do so before winter is fully upon us.

[While the days have grown quite colder, it’s not officially winter yet within the Netherworld. No, they only have a few days before winter’s icy breath is fully upon them. Augustine gestures for Dimitri to follow him towards the small shed behind his little boutique. Along the way, several bundles of dark purple flowers are seen wrapped up in a peculiar cloth similar to bandages. Augustine bandaged the roots to keep the moisture within them but they’re quickly drying out.]

We need to get those planted quickly.

[He mutters before reaching for another shovel along with some other gardening tools in the form of an elegant copper water pitcher, pruning shears, and a gardening fork. Welcome to Gardening 101, Dimitri.]

Hacking Up Posies (CATCH-ALL/OPEN)

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