Sabina wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of the flowers in the hall being ‘quite all we need for now.’ That had never been her philosophy; she had little use for the word enough. A passage she remembered having read long ago came to mind: “our loves and comforts should increase, even as our days do grow!” In her Silver world, that simple sentiment rang loud and clear and, above all, true. She never wanted for comforts big or small, not once, while she knew Emmett’s experience was far from her own. Perhaps flowers weren’t some great luxury, but if they brought happiness to just one person, that was all the encouragement Sabina would need.
And, at this point in her life, that was all she thought to offer. Flower crowns once their shifts had come to a close, taking a place at the sink to scrub dishes, offering poetry recommendations and lending books between odd jobs: all silly, surface things, probably inconsequential in the grand scheme of time. She had always wanted to do more, but there were risks involved for both her and them. In truth, she wasn’t even sure where she’d begin. How could one Silver girl, armed with nothing more than a bright bouquet and good intentions, undo all the wrongs of the last hundred years?
Emmett made a good point. After quick pleasantries, warm updates on things that had come and gone to pass, Sabina and his father turned to gardening immediately. Soon, they were almost in a world of their own, tossing around taxonomy and terms that she’d only ever read in old textbooks. She couldn’t talk to anyone about plant life in the way she spoke to Emmett’s father, not even to her own. The strange unexpectedness of it had caused her pause on more than one occasion. Of all the people in the world that she knew, how odd that the person who understood her ability best was a small, kind man with Red blood? It was easy to lose track of time in that way, eagerly chatting with someone who knew what she meant and was content to contribute, and miss any subtle signs of Emmett’s uneasiness.
Sabina dedicated herself to listening now, resisting the urge to ramble on and on as she often did (and he often let her). While she did, picking out his words from the rest of the carnival chatter, it was easier to see what Emmett had done. Insisted she’d done no wrong, spoken to the weather, remarked on the others he’d seen throughout the square, all in response to the question how are you. An eloquent answer, authentic and seemingly unrehearsed, but one that didn’t quite answer the question she’d asked. Quite masterfully done, she wondered how often she’d asked Emmett about himself where he’d turned his answer around to speak of anything but.
“I thought the music was magical,” she added, a daydreamy lilt to her voice. “Certainly more fun than another waltzing box step, too.” Though he seemed to have moved neatly on from her question, Sabina circled back. “And are you enjoying yourself, Emmett? I pray you haven’t spent the entire day solely looking out for others. I think we’re all meant to have a good time.”
Emmett was not convinced Sabina agreed with him on the flowers. In fact, he knew she wouldn’t even before he offered the explanation. Despite his most steadfast reservations, Emmett knew it was her who brought new colours to their servant quarters each week without reminder or invitation, who gave flowers out like smiles; who let the Carnival take on a new tenderness before him, simply by placing crowns on all the willing heads, Red and Silver alike. No, he was in no place to deny such things. So it seemed almost silly then, to expect Sabina to understand that the beauty her flowers held, would only harm his staff if worn past the call of the evening.
Any other time, in any other life, Emmett figured he would think the same as she, to let beauty take root everywhere, in every means---but this was not another time and this was not some other life, and Emmett had no desire to play pretend. He saw what he must of the world’s rotting frame, and dealt with it from there: built new supports, better means of transport, distribution of weight, survival. He did not need Sabina to be convinced of flowers only sitting by the long table and nowhere else, he only needed for the matter not to pressed too deeply. For when a Silver, or even a Red with ignorance, pressed too deeply that was when Emmett had to
She would come to drop the subject, and Emmett, though knowing somehow that the gentle disagreement was not at all settled, only stored, was happy. He did not like having to act as opposition, not with a Silver and especially not with a Silver who demanded such strange caution in his steps. Strange because he caught himself not wanting to bear the caution, like it were the uniform he put on each morning: not entirely a choice to wear but more an action, a superficial change. Below his suit each day, there was still a plain t-shirt; as there was always too, a sense to Emmett around Sabina, beneath his caution, that he could simply be, that he needn’t see her as threat (when of course he did). For this reason, and how tiring it was to be always self-aware, he preferred not to test his caution with disagreements. Conversations of the warmth of the day’s sun, or songs which one had heard, were what Emmett preferred. They were simple, and they were easy.
Noticing Sabina’s persistence at singling out his feelings, Emmett suppressed a grin, eyes crinkling beneath the effort. A soft breath escaped him, close to laughter but not quite, “I am, m’Lady” he said without knowing it to be true or not. Seeing the others happy brought him peace of mind, but was that the same as enjoyment? Or, more importantly: did it overcome the trepidation he felt for Aurelian’s unknown motives? Figuring only an honest answer would quench her curiosity, he then added: “The music reminds me of my home before coming to the palace. It’s a... nice thing to hear sung about the square.”
