| Jan 1, 2014 19:17:57 GMT -5 |
Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2014 19:17:57 GMT -5
Writings and drawings will go here even tho I don't often do them.
for Christmas i wrote EngLiech for Misso uvu
Arthur had been working on this garden for a while, even before meeting Lili. The fact that he liked to garden was not secretive, but he did not go on boasting about it, either. It was reserved; a more personal delight. Over the span of years that followed his living on his own, that work grew less studious and had seen a decline in productivity—the flowers once in full bloom had their petals shrinking in on themselves, their heads wilt and languished to stare wounded at the ground below. Perhaps it had been the London rain that drowned the soil beyond health, or that the sun was too often obscured by clouds overhead. There was some missing factor that kept Arthur from keeping his garden alive over all these years, one that he just couldn’t put his finger on. But he cherished the garden, he knew that much, and the thought of voluntary negligence was therefore kept out of mind.
Constructing a greenhouse had several times crossed his mind, but he preferred things as they were. It felt better to let the garden expand and breathe while out in the open, not enclosed between any walls. It made for nicer strolls and, on stormier days, provided for vibrant scenery from beyond the window while Arthur would be inside and biding his time with a cup of tea at the table. Those flowers would be as quiet and worn down by the rain as he, but they were still pleasing to look at.
Lili had just moved to London when they met, and at first he wouldn’t have guessed that she was new. He disliked admitting that it was unordinary to come across anyone so sociable. He was not the type to kindly approach strangers for any sort of chat. The sidewalks of the city were often congested, but even a crowd did not mean that the streets felt lively. People were busy, quiet; engrossed in themselves if not each other. Shoulders bumped and eye contact passed fleetingly before one’s head would retreat under an umbrella canopy and they would continue on their way. Strangers harbored only this disinterested behavior toward one another, which Arthur had grown used to and frankly did not ever mind. So long as no one came to bother him.
That only showed hope of changing the moment their eyes had met. The green of his eyes was so dark and weathered in comparison to hers—they were of lighter hue and with a gentler look that held him like a vice. They were a green touched with aqua, like the beautiful chrysoprase color he would see on a mood ring. That type of green usually meant calmness, neutrality—or was it romance on some of them too? Thankfully their meetings had not been scarce from that point on. Her face was not another pair of solemn eyes that he would pass by one day to never be seen again.
To this day, it still strikes him how she had changed him like that. It was as if Arthur had a barrier, a wall behind which he would keep himself reserved. He had little friends because he didn’t care to make any. The relationships he had were brief and lacking in true romance. He was awkward when it came to having company over, so he strayed away from things like that. It almost frustrated him that he was taking so much interest in the Liechtensteiner. She might just return home eventually and they would probably never meet again—that was the norm with most people he crossed paths with—but just this once he didn’t want that to happen. He remembered the gentleman behavior that his parents used to insist on him and did his best to leave better impressions on the woman. In the time that Lili was in London, he would find himself meeting her in the same café by a local florist. That was when he found out—among many other things—that she had a strong affiliation with flowers like he did. It had simply felt so long since he opened himself up like this to another. Sharing interests was not a prompt he was used to, but it honestly felt like the first time he had ever felt so… interested in any conversation. It was not for business, it was not curt or monotonous; it was just friendly and something Arthur did not think himself capable of engaging in.
Months would pass like this, a time over which Arthur did not lose any of that interest he felt. They had started a relationship somewhere in there; she was still as enticing as she was the day he met her in that florist’s shop and he felt incredibly lucky that no one else had swept her off her feet already. Having her around his flat made it feel as if he had his own mediator. She was always so calm in the best and worst of times, gentle and never timid when handling Arthur’s less stable temper. Gentleness was something that arose often between the two. Arthur was not as used to such kind treatment, but it felt only natural to return it. He knew Lili was stronger than how she was built, but he still couldn’t help thinking she was delicate. Perhaps it was the softness of her fair skin—he knew that from an obtained habit of brushing his knuckles against her cheek, gentle like the swipe of a feather or a flake of snow—the sweet lilt of her voice or the smallness of her hands.
What was more; her interest in gardening reminded him of the state of his own garden back home. She had offered to help him with it and that was an offer he could never turn down. Flowers with little chance of survival were removed and replaced by seeds they had gone out and bought. There were Gloriosa daisies, various tulips, peonies, the brightest pink and yellow begonias. Lili made visits to Arthur’s flat as frequently as she could, and tending to that garden was how they spent a majority of their time. Even when there were heavy clouds up above, it was a sliver of color to counter the shadows that they casted.
---
Their progress did pause once. It was nearing the end of May and Lili was returning from a lengthy visit to her brother over in Switzerland. During the few weeks that she was away, Arthur took it upon himself to make sure that the garden would look supreme—at the cost of a bit of cheating, since he did visit the store to buy a few plants that were already potted. Those flowers were placed down wherever the garden looked too empty. The others that they worked on were already well in bloom, if not little buds that were harder to notice behind all the taller blossoms.
He was waiting by the backdoor, holding a rose he had bought in his hand. He didn’t want to ruin what they had worked on by plucking something from their garden, so he figured that was the most appreciative option. His fingers held steadily around its stem, tightening when he heard the click and creak of the front door.
There wasn’t any reason for him to be nervous around her. Sometimes, though, he wasn’t sure whether his gentleman act would ever cut it. She once—no, several times—told him that she loved him just as he was. The cliché ‘you’re perfect the way you are’, he’d used to think, but now he absolutely loved hearing it from her. She knew he was charming in his own way. He didn’t have to be posh or dripping with gentlemanly mannerisms to prove himself to her.
Footsteps carried Lili across the floor and to where Arthur was standing. There their eyes once more met, as exhilarating as it had been the first time that occurred.
She rushed forward and he caught her in an embrace, uttering from smiling lips that pressed against her hair, “Welcome back home, angel. I’m hoping you’ll like what I’ve done out there.”
When he released her, his arm twitched to present that single rose to her and place it in her hand. He was not expecting it to be too surprising—and it wasn’t, for she had caught a glimpse of it behind his back when she arrived—but it made her laugh, ardently. They joined hands and found themselves equally anxious to explore what became of Arthur’s garden.
Determination was on Lili’s end, to relax Arthur from whichever nerves he had been feeling that moment. Of course she had not been counting on him to make a spectacular showing of the garden while she was away, so she had to assure him that she would not be disappointed no matter what he thought.
It was large, that was for certain. There was a stone path that led out to the small pond nearby, and on either side of each carefully crafted stone were bushes and the flowers they had implemented. The grass at their roots was luscious and clear of weeds, not overrun by rainwater as it had been before. Tulips were placed in a fashion that looked like they were swirling around the patches of green, much like one would see beautifully done in a movie. It didn’t look that professional, but it was still something to awe over. This all seemed endless as you crossed along the path to the pond. You could reach out your arms as you walked and always there would be soft foliage for your fingers to feel—and that was precisely what she was doing. As they went, Lili was recalling her entire trip to Switzerland, voicing each detail with exuberance and with eyes that were lit by the surroundings around her.
Petals swayed but were not knocked over by a gentle breeze, and the sky had spared London a clear and warm day today. Arthur could only marvel over the change—this was not at all the weeping garden he had had before. It occurred to him how important he found Lili’s and his shared interest in flowers of the like, that such a small detail could lead him to working so feverishly over this entire yard. The thought also dwelled in his mind that Lili might have been that one factor he and his garden needed in order to be perfect.
He was smiling throughout their walk, listening to her as she spoke. He would like to think that the walking path would not end when they came upon the pond. The line was thin where ground met water, and they could see their reflections (as well as the sky’s), slightly disfigured, in the clear ripples. The path did stop there, but there was no mistaking the notion that time would lead them everywhere else. They had all the time in the world, it felt, to continue getting to know each other, to possibly live together soon, to visit all other points of London or, even better—the world. At one point Arthur will have to find a more romantic spot than his backyard to propose, but that part is probably a lengthy step away.
Fearing he might begin to blush, he stops thinking about that.
for Christmas i wrote EngLiech for Misso uvu
Arthur had been working on this garden for a while, even before meeting Lili. The fact that he liked to garden was not secretive, but he did not go on boasting about it, either. It was reserved; a more personal delight. Over the span of years that followed his living on his own, that work grew less studious and had seen a decline in productivity—the flowers once in full bloom had their petals shrinking in on themselves, their heads wilt and languished to stare wounded at the ground below. Perhaps it had been the London rain that drowned the soil beyond health, or that the sun was too often obscured by clouds overhead. There was some missing factor that kept Arthur from keeping his garden alive over all these years, one that he just couldn’t put his finger on. But he cherished the garden, he knew that much, and the thought of voluntary negligence was therefore kept out of mind.
Constructing a greenhouse had several times crossed his mind, but he preferred things as they were. It felt better to let the garden expand and breathe while out in the open, not enclosed between any walls. It made for nicer strolls and, on stormier days, provided for vibrant scenery from beyond the window while Arthur would be inside and biding his time with a cup of tea at the table. Those flowers would be as quiet and worn down by the rain as he, but they were still pleasing to look at.
Lili had just moved to London when they met, and at first he wouldn’t have guessed that she was new. He disliked admitting that it was unordinary to come across anyone so sociable. He was not the type to kindly approach strangers for any sort of chat. The sidewalks of the city were often congested, but even a crowd did not mean that the streets felt lively. People were busy, quiet; engrossed in themselves if not each other. Shoulders bumped and eye contact passed fleetingly before one’s head would retreat under an umbrella canopy and they would continue on their way. Strangers harbored only this disinterested behavior toward one another, which Arthur had grown used to and frankly did not ever mind. So long as no one came to bother him.
That only showed hope of changing the moment their eyes had met. The green of his eyes was so dark and weathered in comparison to hers—they were of lighter hue and with a gentler look that held him like a vice. They were a green touched with aqua, like the beautiful chrysoprase color he would see on a mood ring. That type of green usually meant calmness, neutrality—or was it romance on some of them too? Thankfully their meetings had not been scarce from that point on. Her face was not another pair of solemn eyes that he would pass by one day to never be seen again.
To this day, it still strikes him how she had changed him like that. It was as if Arthur had a barrier, a wall behind which he would keep himself reserved. He had little friends because he didn’t care to make any. The relationships he had were brief and lacking in true romance. He was awkward when it came to having company over, so he strayed away from things like that. It almost frustrated him that he was taking so much interest in the Liechtensteiner. She might just return home eventually and they would probably never meet again—that was the norm with most people he crossed paths with—but just this once he didn’t want that to happen. He remembered the gentleman behavior that his parents used to insist on him and did his best to leave better impressions on the woman. In the time that Lili was in London, he would find himself meeting her in the same café by a local florist. That was when he found out—among many other things—that she had a strong affiliation with flowers like he did. It had simply felt so long since he opened himself up like this to another. Sharing interests was not a prompt he was used to, but it honestly felt like the first time he had ever felt so… interested in any conversation. It was not for business, it was not curt or monotonous; it was just friendly and something Arthur did not think himself capable of engaging in.
Months would pass like this, a time over which Arthur did not lose any of that interest he felt. They had started a relationship somewhere in there; she was still as enticing as she was the day he met her in that florist’s shop and he felt incredibly lucky that no one else had swept her off her feet already. Having her around his flat made it feel as if he had his own mediator. She was always so calm in the best and worst of times, gentle and never timid when handling Arthur’s less stable temper. Gentleness was something that arose often between the two. Arthur was not as used to such kind treatment, but it felt only natural to return it. He knew Lili was stronger than how she was built, but he still couldn’t help thinking she was delicate. Perhaps it was the softness of her fair skin—he knew that from an obtained habit of brushing his knuckles against her cheek, gentle like the swipe of a feather or a flake of snow—the sweet lilt of her voice or the smallness of her hands.
What was more; her interest in gardening reminded him of the state of his own garden back home. She had offered to help him with it and that was an offer he could never turn down. Flowers with little chance of survival were removed and replaced by seeds they had gone out and bought. There were Gloriosa daisies, various tulips, peonies, the brightest pink and yellow begonias. Lili made visits to Arthur’s flat as frequently as she could, and tending to that garden was how they spent a majority of their time. Even when there were heavy clouds up above, it was a sliver of color to counter the shadows that they casted.
---
Their progress did pause once. It was nearing the end of May and Lili was returning from a lengthy visit to her brother over in Switzerland. During the few weeks that she was away, Arthur took it upon himself to make sure that the garden would look supreme—at the cost of a bit of cheating, since he did visit the store to buy a few plants that were already potted. Those flowers were placed down wherever the garden looked too empty. The others that they worked on were already well in bloom, if not little buds that were harder to notice behind all the taller blossoms.
He was waiting by the backdoor, holding a rose he had bought in his hand. He didn’t want to ruin what they had worked on by plucking something from their garden, so he figured that was the most appreciative option. His fingers held steadily around its stem, tightening when he heard the click and creak of the front door.
There wasn’t any reason for him to be nervous around her. Sometimes, though, he wasn’t sure whether his gentleman act would ever cut it. She once—no, several times—told him that she loved him just as he was. The cliché ‘you’re perfect the way you are’, he’d used to think, but now he absolutely loved hearing it from her. She knew he was charming in his own way. He didn’t have to be posh or dripping with gentlemanly mannerisms to prove himself to her.
Footsteps carried Lili across the floor and to where Arthur was standing. There their eyes once more met, as exhilarating as it had been the first time that occurred.
She rushed forward and he caught her in an embrace, uttering from smiling lips that pressed against her hair, “Welcome back home, angel. I’m hoping you’ll like what I’ve done out there.”
When he released her, his arm twitched to present that single rose to her and place it in her hand. He was not expecting it to be too surprising—and it wasn’t, for she had caught a glimpse of it behind his back when she arrived—but it made her laugh, ardently. They joined hands and found themselves equally anxious to explore what became of Arthur’s garden.
Determination was on Lili’s end, to relax Arthur from whichever nerves he had been feeling that moment. Of course she had not been counting on him to make a spectacular showing of the garden while she was away, so she had to assure him that she would not be disappointed no matter what he thought.
It was large, that was for certain. There was a stone path that led out to the small pond nearby, and on either side of each carefully crafted stone were bushes and the flowers they had implemented. The grass at their roots was luscious and clear of weeds, not overrun by rainwater as it had been before. Tulips were placed in a fashion that looked like they were swirling around the patches of green, much like one would see beautifully done in a movie. It didn’t look that professional, but it was still something to awe over. This all seemed endless as you crossed along the path to the pond. You could reach out your arms as you walked and always there would be soft foliage for your fingers to feel—and that was precisely what she was doing. As they went, Lili was recalling her entire trip to Switzerland, voicing each detail with exuberance and with eyes that were lit by the surroundings around her.
Petals swayed but were not knocked over by a gentle breeze, and the sky had spared London a clear and warm day today. Arthur could only marvel over the change—this was not at all the weeping garden he had had before. It occurred to him how important he found Lili’s and his shared interest in flowers of the like, that such a small detail could lead him to working so feverishly over this entire yard. The thought also dwelled in his mind that Lili might have been that one factor he and his garden needed in order to be perfect.
He was smiling throughout their walk, listening to her as she spoke. He would like to think that the walking path would not end when they came upon the pond. The line was thin where ground met water, and they could see their reflections (as well as the sky’s), slightly disfigured, in the clear ripples. The path did stop there, but there was no mistaking the notion that time would lead them everywhere else. They had all the time in the world, it felt, to continue getting to know each other, to possibly live together soon, to visit all other points of London or, even better—the world. At one point Arthur will have to find a more romantic spot than his backyard to propose, but that part is probably a lengthy step away.
Fearing he might begin to blush, he stops thinking about that.
