{time & roses}

[Retiarius Corso]

no use in waiting no more.
it's a time tragedy

• There was a distinctive pop as Retiarius appeared within Diagon Alley, hand held tightly by a pale little girl with raven black hair. It was the first time she had ever witnessed a place as magical as this. The spells that were being cast were quite impressive. There was a wizard standing outside his shop, transfiguring pewter cauldrons into fat yellow birds. “This place is quite funny.” Her eyes lit up every time she saw something new. “I want an owl – can you buy me an owl, please, oh please.” She tugged on Retiarius’ hand. “I’ll think about it.” He replied, not wanting to give her a straight 'no'.

The magical menagerie looked as busy as a bees nest during the summer. Children begged their parents for the animals of their choosing. There was a kid with a bat hanging off his arm, grinning devilishly as he paid the man outside. Retiarius didn’t have the money or the time to take care of a pet. “I think that my house would fare better without all the owl droppings.” He dropped to one knee to say this. “But,” he held up a finger, eyes darting up and down the alleyway. “I could maybe afford to buy you a-“ His eyes had landed on the brightly colored shop down the way. “- a flower.”

Standing back up, Retiarius offered her his hand and together they walked down to Veneficus Vige. Her eyes were wide, taking in everything they passed on their way to the florist shop. It was all magical when she was with Retiarius. It was hard to believe that only a week ago she’d been picking salvageable food from trash bins. Her hand held onto Retiarius’ fingers, not wanting to be lost in the crowd of people around them. She never wanted to go back to that, never wanted to fight another battle in her life.

It had only been a week since the incident with the Grimm. Retiarius tried to push it out of his mind. There were dark lines underneath his eyes – a telltale sign that he hadn’t slept a wink since the fateful encounter. His hair was a mess of darkness atop his head, and his face was covered in dark stubble. It seemed like a lot of effort to shave, effort that he wanted to put into the last couple of days, weeks, or months that he had left on this earth….and on the girl that was gripping his hand tightly.

They reached the florist shop in no time at all. She let go of his hand and rushed inside, searching for a flower that would fit her personality. Retiarius followed closely behind. The shop smelt of freshly picked roses and tulips. There were exotic flowers strategically placed around the room, some of them singing and swaying to the breeze. Sophia, to his surprise, wasn’t interested in these. She had taken a liking in a red rose without any thorns. “I want this one!” She held it up to her nose, taking in its subtle scent. It was in this moment that he realized what he was to this girl – something he had always wanted to be - a father.

[Deirdre Irons]

"I want this one!"

Bringing her head up from pruning some of the more persnickety bonsais in the back storage, Deirdre pursed her lips into a small half-frown before realizing that the small bell had sent an alert to her about the potential customers, she'd just been too absorbed to register it. Eyes widening and hand already straightening her, admittedly, messy hair, her gloves were tossed onto a nearby crate of planting pots and her fingers busied themselves with untying her apron.

Several of the arborvitaes swayed in her direction and whispered their greeting softly, as they're wont to do and a few of the white lilacs scoffed at her but other that, the rest of the flowers to be in a general good mood. Of course, the small, excited, little girl holding a thornless red rose might have something to do with it, as well. Flowers love children; always have and always will.

She was a pale little thing and seemed entirely too happy have to been to Diagon Alley before. She's new... the balm plants whispered, their leaves swaying. The other is tired... Deirdre smiled. The man did seem tired, but happy, and he obviously loved the little girl. A daughter? Niece? You never knew in these times.

"I believe that, since it has no thorns, the message for that flower is 'true love at first sight'," she said with a smile, coming around the counter, bare feet silently on the store's warmed marble floor. Kneeling close to eye level, partly to face the girl and partly to check the flower--humming happily as it was--she smiled and nodded again, Byzantium hair falling in her face. "But I think it's just pretty, yeah?"

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[Retiarius Corso]

and if your strife strikes at your sleep, remember spring swaps snow for leaves

• This plan ordinary rose stood out amongst the rest. Sophia had spotted it the moment she stepped inside, ignoring everything else that was going on around her. Flowers bloomed in her presence – and yet this flower was the only one that got her attention. Retiarius appeared a brief moment later, looking warn out and tired, but never unhappy. The edges of his lips pulled upward into a smile upon seeing her with the rose to her nose, breathing in its wonderful scent. “I want this one for my room.” She held it for him to smell it. He took a knee and buried his nose into the middle of the flower.

It was Sophia’s innocence that drew her to the red rose. It was beautiful, and at the same time, harmless, unable to hurt the meanest of men. Retiarius closed his eyes, breathing in the natural perfume of the rose petals. Nostalgia washed over him. It brought him back to his adolescence, kicking around a Quaffle in the hot summer sun. His mother had planted several rose bushes, warning him to stay away; but like all boys, he didn’t listen. There were still several scars on his skin from where he’d fallen into one.

An unfamiliar voice brought him back to the present. Sophia was looking up, perplexed by the color of this woman’s hair. It was a light shade of purple. Retiarius opened his eyes, straightening up to properly greet the employee. “How much does it cost for a single rose?” His hand shot out to shake with hers. “It appears that she is smitten with it.” Sophia smelled the rose infatuated with the false security that it could guarantee her. “How do you get your hair that color?” She asked, dropping the rose to her side to get a better look at the woman that stood before her. “It’s....what's that word that people sometime say…wicked?”

In all honesty, Sophia hated the midnight black hair that was curtained around her childish features. “I’d give my two front teef to be able to change my hair color.” She said, reaching up to touch the curled ends of Deirdre’s hair. Retiarius didn’t dare mention that Sophia was a muggle that he’d brought into the magical world. “She’s new here.” He could only muster this up, hoping that Sophia would play along. “Rat-or-rius saved me from a big doggy that went rawr…” She began to pantomime it at once. “…I was like AH! And the doggy didn’t stop chasing after me, barking. It was a bad doggy.” She nodded. “It thought I stole it’s snacks."

[Deirdre Irons]

“For one rose?” Deirdre tilted her head, lips curling into a small half-smile as she put a finger on her chin and looked at nothing on the ceiling, pretending to think. “For this sweet one? One Sickle.” She eyed this “Rat-or-rius’ hand before nodding and proclaiming that since they’d shaken on it, the deal was final. She loved children and yes, the price she’d named was lower than what her usual fares were—stated as they were on the window—but really, she loved children and this man seemed like he was trying so hard already and was so tired but kept going just for her. Dedication to be admired, indeed.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Deirdre whispered conspiratorially to the little girl admiring her hair. “My hair was a brown color before I took a potion to change to this pretty purple. And you don’t even have to give your two front teeth, sweetie.” Oh, she was so blessed adorable! “But I think your hair is such a beautiful color, honey, I might even change my hair to match it.”

Looking up at the man, who name she suspected via the little girl’s pronunciation but didn’t want to butcher, and nodding, she flashed him a grin. “I can tell, she’s precious.” And just like that, her attention was back on the little girl and her story and the motions she made with it. “A big doggy?” she asked with a straight face, slightly concerned. Her definition of ‘big’ was different from the child’s. She looked to “Rat-or-rius” for confirmation that the little girl meant her definition of ‘big’ and not theirs.

“Well, brave warriors like you two deserve treats,” she announced, getting up from her kneeling position to rummage around behind her desk. “Ah-ha! A white lily for you, little lady, and a lavender bloom for you, brave sir.” Bringing out both flowers with a flourish, she held them out and hoped she wasn’t offending either of them. The flowers would suit them well, charmed not to wilt as they were. White lilies meant purity and lavender meant, among other things, devotion. They fit.