Autor presses his reddened knuckles against his lips to keep from laughing. Her delight is contagious, and it's not just the air that warms him.
"I was told that there may be a few fertility gods among the patrons, because everything bloomed en masse last year," he says, scooping up a pair of pruning shears from a nearby tool cabinet.
The boy falls quiet for a bit, leaning against the cabinet to watch her cheerfully run around. There's a smile on his face, though he doesn't know it.
"Have you heard of the language of flowers?" he says eventually, and snips off a white hydrangea cluster, a ball of delicate blooms. "Where I'm from, people use them to send messages to one another. I've heard that there exists a different dialect in Japan, though I don't know it."
[OOC: Sorry about the instant slowtimes this morning!]
no subject
"I was told that there may be a few fertility gods among the patrons, because everything bloomed en masse last year," he says, scooping up a pair of pruning shears from a nearby tool cabinet.
The boy falls quiet for a bit, leaning against the cabinet to watch her cheerfully run around. There's a smile on his face, though he doesn't know it.
"Have you heard of the language of flowers?" he says eventually, and snips off a white hydrangea cluster, a ball of delicate blooms. "Where I'm from, people use them to send messages to one another. I've heard that there exists a different dialect in Japan, though I don't know it."
[OOC: Sorry about the instant slowtimes this morning!]