fic: A Flower Fair
Dec. 1st, 2020 09:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: A Flower Fair
Series: Story of Seasons: Trio of Towns
Character/pairing: Ford/Nanami (MC), ensemble
Rating: PG
Summary: Ford gets ready for the Flower Fair early.
Word count: 2700
Authors note:
Missing scenes based on one of his Flower Fair lines.
Specifically:
A flower for the Flower Fair, hm...?
I used to think little of it, but now I find myself waiting anxiously to receive one from you every
year. Thank you.
I've readied a flower for you as well.
Consider it a symbol of my everlasting love and gratitude.
Post marriage, about year 2 (and pre-kid) I'd say.
"...and you wouldn't believe how angry Carrie got."
Brad sighed, and brushed off his apron. The Garden Grill was rather quiet now. Soon, the lunch rush would come in and Brad would have no time to talk.
Wayne and Ford both sat at the table, while Brad stood slightly a bit off, as if he were taking their order. Carrie was off on errands.
The Garden Grill was still somewhat shadowed. The band stage left empty as Frank still had animals to feed.
At times, admittedly, Ford would tune out of their chatter. Perhaps it was his failing as a friend, and a human being. Wayne's talks of countless women who openly lusted after him simply blended together until he could not even tell his many admirers apart. At times Ford's mind would wander back too his research instead.
However, these words brought him back into the conversation. A spat between Brad and Carrie was a deeper rare thing.
"What caused her ire?"
"She thought I forgot our anniversary plans we'd made together. It wasn't that I forgot. Some ingredients came in late. I was out at the post office while Wayne and I searched through the back to find the parcel. It got mixed up with some things to be sent to Lulukoko."
"I see... Then romantic holidays must be remembered and observed?" Ford said.
"If you don't want to end up in the dog house," Brad said.
Ford's brow furrowed in thought. "The dog house is too small for me to sleep in. Banishment there would be illogical, and frankly cruel. Would not the stable, or the couch be better places?"
"It's a metaphor," Brad said.
"I see," Ford said.
Ford often found himself at a loss when it came to metaphors. He was literal, blunt and such subtleties might as well have been another language. Indeed, the entirety of human interaction might as well have been another language to him.
Ford put this thought away in the back of his mind. The moment he got home, he put it in his notebook to investigate further
*
It started as both a plan, and a worry. Of course, worries were needless and pointless, yet they kept arising. The best he could do was plan out so meticulously that they would never come to fruition.
He started making preparations mid-spring. He would've started earlier, however, he had many things to consider. Holly's birthday was mid-summer, and the Goddess festival finished out Spring as well. Holly of course, always helped gather up the donations.
First, he ordered some books to complete his library.
Ford had plenty of books on botany. From the classification to the uses in medicine. His library was lacking in the language he had never considered: the floral language. He knew from long ago history classes that in certain times, flowers had hidden meanings.
He poured over the books. Yellow flowers were to be avoided at all costs, especially yellow roses. There were so many negative meanings from them. Jealousy and unrequited love and more. Though pleasant to the eyes, he would not inadvertently send her that message.
What a fascinating language. A single flower held so many meanings, so much hidden inside. No matter how many times he said the words, it didn't seem nearly enough to make up for everything Holly had done for him. It was as if he had been living in winter all this time, and had only just seen the sun.
No, that was cliche, that was trite. He would stop himself with such metaphors and leave them to poets. Yet, that was how he felt. His old life stripped away, until he was someone entirely new.
Someone who would, at all costs, remember every single blasted festival there was, no matter how inane.
*
It was on the first of Summer that he arrived at the florist, with an entire booklet of notes on hand. A Thousand Bouquets was filled with the many aromas of flowers, and now thanks to his wife's help, perfumes.
There were many pastels everywhere, no surprise. At the far end was a desk where many ribbons and flowers were set for more floral artistry.
Lisette smiled. "Why, Ford. I didn't expect you so early in the morning, and on a weekday, too."
He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, the clients will have to wait a moment. I have an order of utmost concern which must be taken care of."
Lisette's lips slightly parted in surprise. She leaned forward, her blond curls slipped down her shoulders as she did. "Utmost concern? Did something happen? Are you all right?"
"Yes...the Flower Fair is coming up and I must be thoroughly prepared."
"Oh, that's what you're worried about? But, that isn't until the end of summer," she said.
"If I were to wait, the entire stock could be sold out and that would be unacceptable. I cannot allow myself such folly as to wait until the last moment to prepare," Ford said. It came out harsher than intended.
"Ahem. I mean, I must...have exactly the perfect bouquet. It is...imperative."
Lisette looked somewhat taken aback. "I always order extra around that time of the year. I've never run out once."
"And I am sure you make tenfold from Wayne's many admirers alone. That does not even take into account what should happen if other towns were to take part in this festival. And with how much Holly has encouraged the towns to work together, I would not be surprised if they did show up."
At least Ford's admirers had gone away once he married Holly. Some of them seemed to have joined in with the rest of Wayne's admirers. Even the thought made him tired on Wayne's behalf.
"But, if you ordered it now, the flowers would wilt," Lisette said.
There were means of preserving. Drying flowers, even the interesting potential of using chemicals. However, dried flowers might not be the best gift for the Flower Fair. Perhaps Holly would think it a reflection on their love...no, it would not do at all.
"Then I shall pay you now for an order which I will pick up on the last of the season, yes? To ensure that no catastrophic events happen and I am left without the proper bouquet upon that of all days. You see, it's a complex order. Not a mere weed picked up along the road, and must be treated as such."
"Of course I wouldn't just make a bouquet of weeds," Lisette said.
It took quite a bit to anger Lisette, and somehow, he'd gone and accidentally offended her. He was extremely skilled at such things. Coming off as far too blunt and unintentionally insulting someone was a talent he excelled in.
"It was a metaphor," he said.
He was, as always, not the best at metaphors. Especially the part of discerning them from literal, plain parts of speech.
"Here, I'm sure this will clarify things," Ford said.
Ford pulled out the many notes he had taken, and read off the instructions for the bouquet.
"Gosh, this is a different kind of order. Very complex! There's even footnotes on the footnotes. It reads like some big academic paper."
"I suppose it should be no surprise?" Ford said softly.
Lisette smiled. "I suppose not."
"I wanted to make sure that you were not bogged down by such instructions so close to the date," he said.
"I'll start making sure you have your order by then right away," Lisette said.
"Thank you," Ford said.
"Will that be all?"
"For now," he said. "Thank you for...being understanding."
"It's no problem."
Lisette had already forgotten and forgiven him.
It was as Holly said: the towns here were full of kind people.
*
There was little to do in arrival of the festival. Ford occasionally would drop by to check upon the status of his order, much to Lisette's exasperation.
With little left to prepare, he counted down the days until this festival, and began preparations for the rest. He would not be caught unaware, and he would never let Holly think for a moment that she was forgotten and unloved.
*
When the day arrived, he was filled with a certain tension. How strange. He never particularly worried himself with such things before. He attended the festivals at times, but was not connected to them in the least. Of course, Wayne and Brad would not hear of him simply staying within the clinic, and the festivals were much too loud for him to focus on his research regardless.
It was always far too much trouble to dissuade them to let him stay, so he would come.
He received plenty of flowers, which was in itself, a nuisance that left him wishing these persistent problems of letters and flowers and gifts from admirers would be focused on Wayne instead.
Thinking back, he barely recognized that person. It truly was just in a year and some seasons to change him so very much. Past him would think this current version unbelievable, even unfathomable. And in his current state, he couldn't even fathom a return to such solitude.
Until he'd met Holly, he hadn't even realized there was anything missing in his life. He hadn't even known the depth of his unhappiness, or how much he had set himself apart from everyone.
She stepped out of bed, her long two braids slightly mussed from sleep. She rubbed at her eyes, and gave him a groggy smile.
Usually, he had to leave very shortly after he woke. He had to allot more time into his schedule for the long (and dusty) walk to work. Even though he walked at a brisk pace, there were inevitably people waiting outside for him at the White Capsule clinic.
"Good morning, Holly."
"G'morning," she said in a sleepy mumble.
"Oh, that's right..."
She reached into her bag. There was a Morning Glory clasped in her hand. Ah, yes. She'd been growing them in the gardens. Her tests of fertilizer to make the most superior crops was quite interesting. Ford had already tested the liquid fertilizer machine she'd purchased, and found it quite remarkable.
The color of the flower was quite a brilliant blue. Her efforts in cultivating the best flowers had certainly come with some spectacular results. He'd dry this, he thought. Press it between some of his books so he'd never forget this moment. For every year they had together, he'd keep the flowers between them. Even if he had to fill all his books with flowers.
If anything, it was more precious a gift to him given that she'd spent so much time growing it to perfection herself.
"Happy Flower Fair, Ford."
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. Her lips were so soft against his skin. Somehow he never quite got used to. Such a small and chaste gesture, yet it filled him with such joy and warmth.
Every book he had read said that such feelings would fade, and yet several seasons into this marriage and he saw no such evidence. Even a brush of her hand against him, a smile and he felt so--affected. His entire day would be lifted simply because of her presence. The very fact that she existed and loved him even when he was difficult. Or perhaps even because he was difficult.
"A flower for the Flower Fair, hm...? I used to think little of it, but now I find myself waiting anxiously to receive one from you every year. Thank you. I've readied a flower for you as well. Consider it a symbol of my everlasting love and gratitude."
He procured the bouquet, filled with blue flowers, the same color of her eyes. All his research on the matter had produced quite amazing results in the stunning piece Lisette had managed to put together.
"It's beautiful! And, you're silly. Of course I'd remember you. I'm not the type of person to just forget my husband," she said.
"No, I suppose you are not. And for that, I am eternally grateful."
And really, that was what changed everything, wasn't it? When that beautiful blond-haired farmer with a big smile came to him even when he was cold. She always brought him herbs she'd gathered and remembered every single festival. She loved him when he was, by all means, seemingly unlovable.
At times, the sheer probability of such a happening kept his mind occupied. It took so many different variables of deeply unlikely things to happen for them to meet.
Had her mother taken her to a museum as a child, instead of a petting zoo, maybe she would've never taken a chance and moved out here. Had he taken that other potential assignment in Oak Tree Town, instead of Westown, he would've never met here.
There were so many ifs.
But somehow, despite everything, they'd met. And she'd chosen him, even when there were far more normal and desirable marriage candidates out there. Even that in itself was baffling, that she had chosen him that she loved him for all his faults and strangeness.
Ford never would quite understand how these turns of events came. He did not see significant proof of such things as deities or destiny, and yet she made him give such things a second glance. How else could he have ended up with someone like her? Logic certainly gave him no answers on that matter.
And it made him have a bit more of an appreciation of the many festivals of this land. Days which were once an annoyance at most were days when he could give her flowers, or food, or many of the other ways he could spoil her. It was yet another chance to show just how grateful he was to have met her.
One more. She always made him want just one more. At this rate, he'd be late for work. Even more, he'd come in flush faced and...distracted. And distraction and medicine were not good bedfellows.
But he had to have one more kiss.
He leaned down and brushed back her soft blond hair. She always wore two long braids, that by the end of the day would have long wisps of hair out from both sides.
His body was filled with warmth at the soft contact against her lips. So sensual, so alluring, and yet so short. He'd have to wait until after work--or at least lunch time--to kiss her again.
"I...erm...I look forward to many more years of being together with you."
"Me too," she said.
Of course, there were patients to attend to, and she had animals to tend to as well. He couldn't linger as long as he would've liked. But the whole walk to town, he breathed in the scent of new flowers, and remembered her smile. What a wonderful thing to have all his fears assuaged, and to have her close to him every single day.
What a wonderful thing to give and receive and share these moments with her.
Even festivals, as superficial as they were, became special because she loved them. Maybe one day he too, would be able to greet these days with such joy. Or, more likely, the days would grow fond to him because of the joy reflected on her face.
Series: Story of Seasons: Trio of Towns
Character/pairing: Ford/Nanami (MC), ensemble
Rating: PG
Summary: Ford gets ready for the Flower Fair early.
Word count: 2700
Authors note:
Missing scenes based on one of his Flower Fair lines.
Specifically:
A flower for the Flower Fair, hm...?
I used to think little of it, but now I find myself waiting anxiously to receive one from you every
year. Thank you.
I've readied a flower for you as well.
Consider it a symbol of my everlasting love and gratitude.
Post marriage, about year 2 (and pre-kid) I'd say.
"...and you wouldn't believe how angry Carrie got."
Brad sighed, and brushed off his apron. The Garden Grill was rather quiet now. Soon, the lunch rush would come in and Brad would have no time to talk.
Wayne and Ford both sat at the table, while Brad stood slightly a bit off, as if he were taking their order. Carrie was off on errands.
The Garden Grill was still somewhat shadowed. The band stage left empty as Frank still had animals to feed.
At times, admittedly, Ford would tune out of their chatter. Perhaps it was his failing as a friend, and a human being. Wayne's talks of countless women who openly lusted after him simply blended together until he could not even tell his many admirers apart. At times Ford's mind would wander back too his research instead.
However, these words brought him back into the conversation. A spat between Brad and Carrie was a deeper rare thing.
"What caused her ire?"
"She thought I forgot our anniversary plans we'd made together. It wasn't that I forgot. Some ingredients came in late. I was out at the post office while Wayne and I searched through the back to find the parcel. It got mixed up with some things to be sent to Lulukoko."
"I see... Then romantic holidays must be remembered and observed?" Ford said.
"If you don't want to end up in the dog house," Brad said.
Ford's brow furrowed in thought. "The dog house is too small for me to sleep in. Banishment there would be illogical, and frankly cruel. Would not the stable, or the couch be better places?"
"It's a metaphor," Brad said.
"I see," Ford said.
Ford often found himself at a loss when it came to metaphors. He was literal, blunt and such subtleties might as well have been another language. Indeed, the entirety of human interaction might as well have been another language to him.
Ford put this thought away in the back of his mind. The moment he got home, he put it in his notebook to investigate further
*
It started as both a plan, and a worry. Of course, worries were needless and pointless, yet they kept arising. The best he could do was plan out so meticulously that they would never come to fruition.
He started making preparations mid-spring. He would've started earlier, however, he had many things to consider. Holly's birthday was mid-summer, and the Goddess festival finished out Spring as well. Holly of course, always helped gather up the donations.
First, he ordered some books to complete his library.
Ford had plenty of books on botany. From the classification to the uses in medicine. His library was lacking in the language he had never considered: the floral language. He knew from long ago history classes that in certain times, flowers had hidden meanings.
He poured over the books. Yellow flowers were to be avoided at all costs, especially yellow roses. There were so many negative meanings from them. Jealousy and unrequited love and more. Though pleasant to the eyes, he would not inadvertently send her that message.
What a fascinating language. A single flower held so many meanings, so much hidden inside. No matter how many times he said the words, it didn't seem nearly enough to make up for everything Holly had done for him. It was as if he had been living in winter all this time, and had only just seen the sun.
No, that was cliche, that was trite. He would stop himself with such metaphors and leave them to poets. Yet, that was how he felt. His old life stripped away, until he was someone entirely new.
Someone who would, at all costs, remember every single blasted festival there was, no matter how inane.
*
It was on the first of Summer that he arrived at the florist, with an entire booklet of notes on hand. A Thousand Bouquets was filled with the many aromas of flowers, and now thanks to his wife's help, perfumes.
There were many pastels everywhere, no surprise. At the far end was a desk where many ribbons and flowers were set for more floral artistry.
Lisette smiled. "Why, Ford. I didn't expect you so early in the morning, and on a weekday, too."
He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, the clients will have to wait a moment. I have an order of utmost concern which must be taken care of."
Lisette's lips slightly parted in surprise. She leaned forward, her blond curls slipped down her shoulders as she did. "Utmost concern? Did something happen? Are you all right?"
"Yes...the Flower Fair is coming up and I must be thoroughly prepared."
"Oh, that's what you're worried about? But, that isn't until the end of summer," she said.
"If I were to wait, the entire stock could be sold out and that would be unacceptable. I cannot allow myself such folly as to wait until the last moment to prepare," Ford said. It came out harsher than intended.
"Ahem. I mean, I must...have exactly the perfect bouquet. It is...imperative."
Lisette looked somewhat taken aback. "I always order extra around that time of the year. I've never run out once."
"And I am sure you make tenfold from Wayne's many admirers alone. That does not even take into account what should happen if other towns were to take part in this festival. And with how much Holly has encouraged the towns to work together, I would not be surprised if they did show up."
At least Ford's admirers had gone away once he married Holly. Some of them seemed to have joined in with the rest of Wayne's admirers. Even the thought made him tired on Wayne's behalf.
"But, if you ordered it now, the flowers would wilt," Lisette said.
There were means of preserving. Drying flowers, even the interesting potential of using chemicals. However, dried flowers might not be the best gift for the Flower Fair. Perhaps Holly would think it a reflection on their love...no, it would not do at all.
"Then I shall pay you now for an order which I will pick up on the last of the season, yes? To ensure that no catastrophic events happen and I am left without the proper bouquet upon that of all days. You see, it's a complex order. Not a mere weed picked up along the road, and must be treated as such."
"Of course I wouldn't just make a bouquet of weeds," Lisette said.
It took quite a bit to anger Lisette, and somehow, he'd gone and accidentally offended her. He was extremely skilled at such things. Coming off as far too blunt and unintentionally insulting someone was a talent he excelled in.
"It was a metaphor," he said.
He was, as always, not the best at metaphors. Especially the part of discerning them from literal, plain parts of speech.
"Here, I'm sure this will clarify things," Ford said.
Ford pulled out the many notes he had taken, and read off the instructions for the bouquet.
"Gosh, this is a different kind of order. Very complex! There's even footnotes on the footnotes. It reads like some big academic paper."
"I suppose it should be no surprise?" Ford said softly.
Lisette smiled. "I suppose not."
"I wanted to make sure that you were not bogged down by such instructions so close to the date," he said.
"I'll start making sure you have your order by then right away," Lisette said.
"Thank you," Ford said.
"Will that be all?"
"For now," he said. "Thank you for...being understanding."
"It's no problem."
Lisette had already forgotten and forgiven him.
It was as Holly said: the towns here were full of kind people.
*
There was little to do in arrival of the festival. Ford occasionally would drop by to check upon the status of his order, much to Lisette's exasperation.
With little left to prepare, he counted down the days until this festival, and began preparations for the rest. He would not be caught unaware, and he would never let Holly think for a moment that she was forgotten and unloved.
*
When the day arrived, he was filled with a certain tension. How strange. He never particularly worried himself with such things before. He attended the festivals at times, but was not connected to them in the least. Of course, Wayne and Brad would not hear of him simply staying within the clinic, and the festivals were much too loud for him to focus on his research regardless.
It was always far too much trouble to dissuade them to let him stay, so he would come.
He received plenty of flowers, which was in itself, a nuisance that left him wishing these persistent problems of letters and flowers and gifts from admirers would be focused on Wayne instead.
Thinking back, he barely recognized that person. It truly was just in a year and some seasons to change him so very much. Past him would think this current version unbelievable, even unfathomable. And in his current state, he couldn't even fathom a return to such solitude.
Until he'd met Holly, he hadn't even realized there was anything missing in his life. He hadn't even known the depth of his unhappiness, or how much he had set himself apart from everyone.
She stepped out of bed, her long two braids slightly mussed from sleep. She rubbed at her eyes, and gave him a groggy smile.
Usually, he had to leave very shortly after he woke. He had to allot more time into his schedule for the long (and dusty) walk to work. Even though he walked at a brisk pace, there were inevitably people waiting outside for him at the White Capsule clinic.
"Good morning, Holly."
"G'morning," she said in a sleepy mumble.
"Oh, that's right..."
She reached into her bag. There was a Morning Glory clasped in her hand. Ah, yes. She'd been growing them in the gardens. Her tests of fertilizer to make the most superior crops was quite interesting. Ford had already tested the liquid fertilizer machine she'd purchased, and found it quite remarkable.
The color of the flower was quite a brilliant blue. Her efforts in cultivating the best flowers had certainly come with some spectacular results. He'd dry this, he thought. Press it between some of his books so he'd never forget this moment. For every year they had together, he'd keep the flowers between them. Even if he had to fill all his books with flowers.
If anything, it was more precious a gift to him given that she'd spent so much time growing it to perfection herself.
"Happy Flower Fair, Ford."
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. Her lips were so soft against his skin. Somehow he never quite got used to. Such a small and chaste gesture, yet it filled him with such joy and warmth.
Every book he had read said that such feelings would fade, and yet several seasons into this marriage and he saw no such evidence. Even a brush of her hand against him, a smile and he felt so--affected. His entire day would be lifted simply because of her presence. The very fact that she existed and loved him even when he was difficult. Or perhaps even because he was difficult.
"A flower for the Flower Fair, hm...? I used to think little of it, but now I find myself waiting anxiously to receive one from you every year. Thank you. I've readied a flower for you as well. Consider it a symbol of my everlasting love and gratitude."
He procured the bouquet, filled with blue flowers, the same color of her eyes. All his research on the matter had produced quite amazing results in the stunning piece Lisette had managed to put together.
"It's beautiful! And, you're silly. Of course I'd remember you. I'm not the type of person to just forget my husband," she said.
"No, I suppose you are not. And for that, I am eternally grateful."
And really, that was what changed everything, wasn't it? When that beautiful blond-haired farmer with a big smile came to him even when he was cold. She always brought him herbs she'd gathered and remembered every single festival. She loved him when he was, by all means, seemingly unlovable.
At times, the sheer probability of such a happening kept his mind occupied. It took so many different variables of deeply unlikely things to happen for them to meet.
Had her mother taken her to a museum as a child, instead of a petting zoo, maybe she would've never taken a chance and moved out here. Had he taken that other potential assignment in Oak Tree Town, instead of Westown, he would've never met here.
There were so many ifs.
But somehow, despite everything, they'd met. And she'd chosen him, even when there were far more normal and desirable marriage candidates out there. Even that in itself was baffling, that she had chosen him that she loved him for all his faults and strangeness.
Ford never would quite understand how these turns of events came. He did not see significant proof of such things as deities or destiny, and yet she made him give such things a second glance. How else could he have ended up with someone like her? Logic certainly gave him no answers on that matter.
And it made him have a bit more of an appreciation of the many festivals of this land. Days which were once an annoyance at most were days when he could give her flowers, or food, or many of the other ways he could spoil her. It was yet another chance to show just how grateful he was to have met her.
One more. She always made him want just one more. At this rate, he'd be late for work. Even more, he'd come in flush faced and...distracted. And distraction and medicine were not good bedfellows.
But he had to have one more kiss.
He leaned down and brushed back her soft blond hair. She always wore two long braids, that by the end of the day would have long wisps of hair out from both sides.
His body was filled with warmth at the soft contact against her lips. So sensual, so alluring, and yet so short. He'd have to wait until after work--or at least lunch time--to kiss her again.
"I...erm...I look forward to many more years of being together with you."
"Me too," she said.
Of course, there were patients to attend to, and she had animals to tend to as well. He couldn't linger as long as he would've liked. But the whole walk to town, he breathed in the scent of new flowers, and remembered her smile. What a wonderful thing to have all his fears assuaged, and to have her close to him every single day.
What a wonderful thing to give and receive and share these moments with her.
Even festivals, as superficial as they were, became special because she loved them. Maybe one day he too, would be able to greet these days with such joy. Or, more likely, the days would grow fond to him because of the joy reflected on her face.
