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Post by Yves Chevalier on Jun 23, 2010 9:46:39 GMT -5
After I'd dropped Aurianne off at her home, I hadn't been able to get her out of my mind. I'd thought about her while working, distracted enough that I knew people had noticed. I thought about her when I woke the next morning, one day closer to when we would go riding together. It had been so long since I actually craved the company of another particular human being that the sensation was novel, but in a good way.
Unable to sleep in that morning, I instead found myself back at the shoppe I had visited with her. The shopkeep smiled knowingly as he greeted me, as if he'd known all along that I would return. I bought the blown glass Camellia flower - almost a month's wages! - and had him wrap it in a pretty white box with green ribbon. He promised to deliver it that afternoon, and asked me if I'd like to write a note to go along with it. I smiled, declining as I knew she'd know that it was from me as soon as she saw it.
I was nervous, but I hoped that she'd like it, for some reason that was important to me, though I tried to pretend otherwise.
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Post by Aurianne nó Hughes on Jun 23, 2010 17:45:06 GMT -5
I was reading in my room, curled upon a chair near a window when suddenly a knock sounded upon my door. I'd been daydreaming on and off ever since I left Yves at my doorstep, thinking of how nice it was to have met him, how much fun I really did have, and how excited and terrified both I was to see him again tomorrow. The book wasn't doing much to help my situation, but I was trying, for no other reason than I didn't have a choice.
When the knock came, though, I was wholly unprepared. Taking the gift from the maid, I shut the door again, confused; a gift was brought over? Damien, I thought with a fond smile, and, sitting upon my bed, I unwrapped it and let the ribbons fall down.
The moment I picked it up, I knew to be careful with it; it was extraordinarily light, and wrapped very carefully. Gently I picked the paper off, and once it was revealed, I gasped, nearly dropping it.
Yves.
Oh, gods, it must have cost him dearly; I remembered the tag upon it when we were at the shoppe, and though I didn't remember the exact price, I knew it had been hefty. Tears threatened to sting my eyes, though I tried swallowing them away, and as I turned the Camellia flower in the sunlight, I was overcome with a longing to see him again.
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