〈 bye bye! 〉？

❝ everything that kills me                      makes me feel alive. ❞       a plegian dark mage with a fetish for bloodshed and an indelible grin. while disarmingly optimistic, he shows a gruesome lack of mercy while on the battlefield. the one with the lowest heart rate. ( P-5 | hex 5min/day | dictionary )( affiliated with citta-alveare. )

[rufure]

wish upon a slip ;

[rufure]

     That’s a lot like him, Robin thinks. Henry is somewhat of an enigma to him, and it’s a game, figuring out if what he’s saying is truly what he means. Though the two are similar in many ways — both hailing from Plegia — Robin has no record of what his life was like prior to ending up in Ylisse, and maybe it’s for the better that it ended up that way. From what he’s seen while serving on Chrom’s army, Robin doesn’t want to recall that aspect, at least not deeply.

     "That’s a fine wish. See, it wasn’t so hard!" He smiles reassuringly, before lifting the piece of paper and pointing to the bamboo tree, which is already decorated in multi-colored leafs of written-on slips. "Now, you just go and hang it on a branch, any one that you want."

[plegify]

     Receiving confirmation from Robin that his wish was a suitable one to place on the tree, he takes the paper carefully from the tactician's hand and looks in the direction that he gestures. Numerous leaflets have been placed from a few days ago, rustling in the lazy night wind, and he tips his head up, looking for a spot to put his wish.

     "Like this?" The mage stands on tiptoe, adorning a nearby (but somewhat bare) branch with his paper. He then shifts his weight back down, against the back of his heels, dusting his hands off with a wide smile. "Haha, thanks for helping me out!"

[rufure]

wish upon a slip ;

[rufure]

     As a tactician, it’s his job to plan out strategy for the next, upcoming battle, but as a friend to all those in the army, it’s his job to help out any of those in need! Plus, he had nothing better to do. And he’d encountered the same problem, more or less, but with a different perspective — surely, there were already a countless number of wishes that sought happiness for all, small things like that.

     "Well!" He clasps his hands together, an overly cheery attempt to spark mutual thought. "If grand-scheme wishing doesn’t appeal to you, maybe you could try wishing for something that matters to you, and just you. In wishes like these, it’s alright to be selfish, because they’re your wishes, you know? I like to think of it like that."

[plegify]

     He thinks about Robin's words, and they do ring true. There was more to wishing than what everyone else was wishing for, and as a bonus, all of these slips were anonymous. (If one so desired, one could analyze the handwriting of each, but who has the time for that?)

     "You're right!" Beaming with resolve, he leans next to the outdoor shelf provided as a hard surface for people to write upon, humming audibly in thought, mostly for how exactly to string the words together to convey what he has on his mind. But he soon writes out something about protecting animals and how he wishes that their safety would be ensured.

[rufure]

wish upon a slip ;

     He isn’t sure if the city is always like this, alive and bright with the radiance of festival lamps, if festivities occur every week, or something? But Robin isn’t about to complain, not when there’s an occasion to put smiles on everyone’s faces — since, that’s what matters to him the most: seeing everyone well and happy.

     Familiar faces have been located here and there, but the tactician sees yet another one, but Robin is surprised to locate someone like him here, next to the bamboo tree of wishes, for he doesn't know what sort of deep wishes that this person would make. Sadly, he doesn't possess the latter’s sense of humor, but he walks to a stop next to him anyway, inquiring cheerfully.

     "Are you here to make a wish?"

[plegify]

     Henry is not one for sentimental activity. Pushing those sorts of thoughts for light-hearted, supposedly off comments, the mage finds that the world is a better place when there are people celebrating, whether the purpose be just or evil; it's all the same to him. Maybe it's a bit wrong, for him to think that he could partake in these events as well. His fingers linger on a slip of paper, a sleek dark pen, clicked once to reveal its tip, but the paper is left as blank as his set of ideas.

     "Perhaps." But it's difficult to tell whether his words have meaning, a delicately constructed facade of expression. "There's the boring stuff, the whole thing about wanting world peace, or less pollution, but things like that just don't matter to me!." He gestures with his hands, before turning again to the slip in thought. "What do you think there's worth wishing for?"

[bihair-deactivated20160101]

     姫】Summertime in Hive City was much more pleasant than the winter she’d arrived in. Over the course of the last six months she’d endured an ice age, memory loss, and most recently a hoard of monsters — and yet, in weather so nice she couldn't help but have a pleasant demeanor. She hummed to herself as she moved through the parks of Sector 006, no particular destination in mind. It was the sort of day that just beckoned new encounters, the sort of day where anything could happen. And, after weeks of fighting horrible monsters, it was welcomed. 

In fact, she was in such a good mood she’d show a little good fortune to a stranger. It was hot, after all, and most seemed fatigued. “Excuse me! Would you like to be cooled off?”

[plegify]

     The summer has not been kind on any of the residents of Hive City as of late, with streams of sunlight constantly beating down upon weathered shoulders and long visages. But today is a day that proves otherwise, a rare, delicate balance between cool and hot (but still a tad too warm). It would be a shame to waste today cooped up indoors, no less!

     Parks, and generally, spots of nature are what he seeks out when he ventures outdoors, and that's where he heads this afternoon. With not much on his agenda, he situates himself near a small group of vibrant flowers, extending one hand to brush petals gently with half-gloved fingertips, while keeping the other hugged around his knees.

     "Sure!" is his enthusiastic answer, before he actually turns to see who it was that addressed him. What meets his gaze is a girl with long, magenta hair, and swathed in an aesthetically colorful set of clothes (almost strangely formal, in a way; it piques his curiosity). "Hey, that dress..." He pauses a bit, before continuing. "It looks nice. Really pretty, too! Where's it from?"

[armorhearted]

“Monsters…? You don’t say…" Inigo chuckles, somewhat nervously. ”Nothing like the Risen, I hope…?"

[ Inigo hides his smile with the rim of his mug, listening to Henry’s delighted account of what sounds like utter bloodshed. Naturally. It always was like Inigo’s father to get so worked up about such gruesome matters as these. Sometimes, Inigo wonders exactly how a man like this could be his father. They were hardly alike. ]

[ Still, Henry’s rant stirs a familiar feeling of affection in Inigo’s middle — especially when Henry provides some (admittedly horrible) romantic advice for his son. ]

“Father, you know I’m not a mage. Just a sellsword." And a dancer. Inigo’s own interior addition makes him blush, so he coughs to cover it and shrugs, smirking in a devil-may-care manner. 

“So I’m afraid your method of courtship might, erm…Well, it’s lucky, really, that I have such a handsome face and charming manner. I can thank you for that, I suppose."

[ He taps his finger on the edge of the table and smiles at a waitress as she passes by. ]

“I do hope the maidens in these parts are more, ah…receptive to my charm. This might come as a shock to you, Father, but I’m afraid I didn’t have much luck with most ladies back home."

[ As if anyone is surprised about that. ]

[plegify]

     "Oh, but of course! They were even worse than Risen, I think. Aha, I didn't think anything could get worse than Risen... honestly!" He continues to go in-depth, denoting every explicit, gory detail with a gleeful smile, his hands uncurling from the cup and expressively following his words. Though the similarities between him and Inigo end somewhere beyond 'hair color', he's quite fond of his future son — it's somewhat of a pleasantry, actually, to be able to converse with him, not only as father to son, but as friends.

     Henry doesn't mind that Inigo doesn't particularly favor his suggested method, but that's alright; the mage knows that his train of thought isn't exactly the most normal thing to keep up with. "Well, it's never too early to start learning. You're lucky you have Ylisse for that, or maybe Regna Ferox — Plegia's got some pretty nasty training regimens." But he only half-means it; whatever life choice makes Inigo happiest, Henry would be pleased with, too.Plus, his advice is pretty horrible to begin with, and additionally, the mental image of Inigo trying to cast that sort of hex makes him laugh, ever so lightly.

     "I always did think that you took after your mother, but about your 'charming manner', as you call it... Who knows? Maybe you got it from the mailman." Henry shrugs his shoulders, pondering a bit upon that mystery. It'd be nice to figure out where Inigo got that from, but another time, maybe. He lifts his head, only to notice Inigo smiling at another waitress, and chuckles to himself. "Perhaps they will be! But there's no knowing if you don't go for it, right?"

[armorhearted]

[ Inigo follows his father from a comfortable distance, still feeling unbelievably giddy at the sight of him. They’re here. His parents are both here. And it seems like one or two friends might be around as well; this place really isn’t as bad as Inigo believed it to be when he first arrived. ]

[ He follows Henry into a coffee shop, sitting down at a table after ordering some bizarre kind of tea. This world is certainly unusual. The buildings and vehicles and customs and clothing feel so…futuristic, for lack of a better world. Still, it’s nice to see Henry is still dressed in his head-to-toe Plegian garb; it’s a comfort to Inigo in this strange land. ]

“So, Father." Inigo takes a sip of his tea. Not too bad. Not like they brew it at home, but no matter. ”Tell me about this place. It seems as though you’ve been here for quite some time; you must have had some interesting experiences to pass on, no?" 

[ Inigo grins, unable to stop himself from voicing the inevitable. ]

“I don’t suppose you can give your son any useful tips about wooing the ladies in this strange land, can you?”

[plegify]

He's never found the modern gear, from simple, short t-shirts to cardigan shorts, to be his style, anyway. His appearance reduces into something plain and painfully monotone, whenever he's tried; and though he keeps a set of modern-day apparel at home (upon Olivia's request), the last time he's touched it is when he put it in the closet to begin with. Plus, from his observations, it isn't uncommon to dress in the clothes that the citizens had arrived in.

As the two take a seat at a nearby table, Henry wraps his hands around the hot, piping cup of hot chocolate he has set before him; to him, the scalding temperature of the mug is but a dull warmth against his palms (Surely, there is something absurdly wrong about this?), and he taps thoughtfully against the clay exterior, humming a soft 'hmm'. It's odd, for Inigo to inquire of him of his experiences, but he answers anyway, his tone akin to that of an excited child. "A few months ago... there were these monsters, in the city. Of course, if you didn't dodge them fast enough, you'd die! You'd get ripped to shreds, and there was blood everywhere. That's why it was so fun..."

Olivia's name lingers on his tongue as he's a second away from launching into specifics, of how he saved her (ran away to the next sector, more or less, it doesn't make for a very interesting story), until Inigo speaks up once more.

Ah, there we go, that's the son he knows and loves.

"Oh, you just slap a certain hex on them... so they can't look at anyone else! We had those, back in Plegia. I could teach you, if you want." he responds, with a smile. He's partly delighted that Inigo asks, spilling forth another two-sentence excerpt about his homeland. But his expression falls when he remembers that magic isn't so easily accessible to him anymore, and his lips twist into a frustrated pout. "Aw, I forgot - the scientists took our tomes away. You don't suppose that you've got any powers on you, right? Any magic...?"

[plegify]

flower language ; ✿ !

[sixpathsofhell]

humans were such strange creatures, assigning irrationally elaborate meanings to things so utterly simple in their purest form. he supposed their tendencies were a true reflection of their nature. stupid, simple-minded beings capable of feats of idiotic courage, great goods, but of the most vile, dastardly evils, when they were pushed far enough. as one could profess their love as a flower bloomed, so too could a man reveal his true intent in blossoming chaos.

it was beautiful to withhold, a sight that captured his eyes more than the delicate petals he rolled between leather-bound thumbs ever would.

a gaze cast under feathery lashes raised from the blossoming cypress flowers that had originally caught his eye, as an aura of blood curdling, malicious intent caught the attention of other senses, and with a careful glance, a man who had become a demon sized up a servant of the darkness, a slimy sort of grin stretching its way across his lower jaw.

a free hand was extended towards the blooms he’d been contemplating only moments before, heterochromed eyes locked upon the presented facade of the other.

( oya? these? they’re cypress blossoms. )

( how ironic it would be if i smothered them, considering their true meaning in the language of flowers is that of death and despair. )

[plegify]

Taking in every word that the mysterious man utters, a soft note of acknowledgement escapes his lips, the crimson irises of his eyes remaining invisible, forming mere slits. The smile upon his visage fails to flinch, though there's a sudden, terse shift in his mood, and if anything, his cheerful expression splits even wider, belying his amusement underneath.

He glances down, extending a hand to gently brush fingertips over the petals. There is an undeniable presence surrounding this stranger, from how death and darkness chases his every footstep, but the mage, hailing from a nation that purported such characteristics, is more than acquainted with these concepts.

"But who was it that gave these flowers meaning?" He pauses, unfurling leaves that had curled in the wind. Silver strands fall over his view as he continues to murmur, in his hushed tone. "It was people, of course."

Another silence is drawn, filled with the indistinguishable chatter of people at the crowded flower shop, as he shuts his eyes (though the action is nearly indiscernible from the exterior) to intake the flower's words, nodding every second or so, before he looks back up, addressing the man directly. "Right now, I can tell you that this flower is just like any other flower. It wants to be cared for! It likes you, and wishes you would take it home to raise it." Brushing aside white bangs, he allows the other a rare sight, opening his eyes to their fullest. "And would you do something as cruel as denying it that because it's supposed to mean something as silly as death and despair...?"

Instantly, however, he relents within the next second with a cock of his head, uplifting the atmosphere once more, leaning back to laugh. "Aha, just kidding!! You don't think I'd really put that responsibility on someone I just met, would you? Gosh, that would be rude! But all flowers are truly that... pure. And it is humans who put the meaning on them."

[armorhearted]

❋  — | [ Henry’s shift in demeanor comes as a surprise to Inigo, particularly as his father hurries toward him and embraces him. Inigo blinks, clinging to the other young man for a moment, stupefied. It isn’t that Henry is not usually affectionate; he’s always had his strange way of showing he cares, something only Olivia and Inigo can really understand. But the momentary lapse in his careless, upbeat attitude comes as such a surprise to Inigo that for a moment, he fears he’ll end up getting emotional. ]

[ It comes as a relief, then, when Henry breaks away and gives Inigo his typical cunning grin. Inigo returns his father’s smile, especially after the mention of Olivia comes up. ]

“Ah, I’m glad to hear it!" Inigo replies, nodding. ”I myself have already bumped into Mother. She looks well." He fidgets for a moment, still relishing in the sight of his father. He can’t believe Olivia and Henry are both here, both safe. ”Are you — are you busy? Perhaps you and I can go somewhere for a chat…?" | — ❋

[plegify]

He senses the startle in Inigo's presence— and makes a note in the back of his cluttered mind not to do that again. Despite his surprise, the embrace had felt all too foreign to him, clumsy in his attempt. But a discussion with Olivia a few weeks prior had led to the conclusion that the best way to greet their son, if he were to appear before them once more, would be a familial-type of greeting (one defined by a hug and a warm (warm?) embrace, which had felt gawky and weird to Henry, personally, but if it made Olivia happy, he wanted to try his best!).

Henry is quick to detangle himself from Inigo's frame, a bit jerkily, in his rapid haste, adjusting the cape around his shoulders afterwards. As Inigo pauses, however, glancing at his father before glancing away once more, Henry's head tips to the side, in mild amusement as his pale gaze observes the silence before him.

"Yeah, of course!" He nods his head, in compliance with Inigo's suggestion, beaming in the latter's direction, and continues in a gentle tone, turning on his heel to begin leading the two down the sidewalk. "You haven't been around the entire city yet, have you? There's a good coffeeshop, hmm, over... Ah, there! I visited it a couple of days ago, and met the nicest crow..."

Giving in to his tendency to ramble about these particular topics, he does his best to serve as a makeshift tour guide, waiting for Inigo to point out landmarks that he is or isn't familiar with already.

[armorhearted]

plegify started following you

[armorhearted]

❋ — | "Is that…Father…?" 

[ Inigo’s face splits into a grin at the sight of the too-familiar face, and he breaks into a jog to draw level with Henry. First his mother, now his father. He’s beginning to think this place won’t be so bad. Maybe here, they can be a family. ] 

"Father, hello! How long have you been here? Are you well?" | — ❋

[plegify]

Ears register the sound of a familiar voice, weathered and well-worn with age and years of sorrow that he had unknowingly left behind. The mage's overused smile vanishes in surprise— but the good sort, always the good sort— if only for a fleeting second, taken aback by the presence of his son, running towards him. But the corners of his lips soon catch up, creasing back into their usual grin.

"Inigo..." The boy's name is murmured tentatively through his hesitation, unfitting of his typical, carefree attitude. But after a moment, he laughs cheerfully, allowing for only that slightest lapse in characteristic, before resuming his upbeat tone and raising a finger in explanation. "For several months, now, you could say! The flowers have been keeping me company— and your mother, too."

[nnanaseharu14]

FE詰め２

[nnanaseharu14]

この光の中で

[domestiquer]

      She should’ve known right from the start that the strange man she found muttering to flowers is one of her comrades! It doesn’t even come off as a shock to her that Henry has such an eccentric hobby, as strange as he is. ❝Hm? Instructions for what, if you don’t mind my asking?❞ If it’s instructions on how to arrive at a certain destination, Cherche would be more than happy to help a friend, especially one who can easily see the beauty of her precious wyvern. Ah, speaking of which…

      ❝Minerva is… having a rather rough time, I’d say.❞ She begins her explanation with her typical smile. ❝Of course, I don’t know all of the details, but as far as I’m concerned, those who brought us here turned my dear Minerva into what she is now!❞  Initially far from pleased, the two found it much easier to adjust to this size change than originally thought. Still, it’s rather tough to remember that Minerva is just not the big creature she was in the past!

      ❝Yes, well, I deeply miss her charming size. She’s still absolutely adorable, still, wouldn’t you agree?❞ She reaches down, petting the smaller creature with a light laugh. ❝However, I believe she was so much cuter at her original size. Nonetheless, her beauty remains.❞ 

[plegify]

Was that truly eccentric? He has been treated as something strange for the entirety of his life; as a result, certain aspects of him were skewed, demented, all neatly hidden with a smile. But, there was something simple that resided within focusing on the present, instead of mulling away on the past. 

"To find my way home!" As expected, Cherche's intuition guides her to the correct answer before Henry replies. "I've never been to this part of the city before," the mage adds, as he rises to his feet, his cape gently lifting off of the ground. "And I don't remember my way back... This plant wasn't very helpful, either."

"I see." A pale red gaze falls upon the affectionate creature next to her, examining her size, her stature, to see if her size was the only thing that had been affected. He reaches out with a gloved hand, holding it in front of her to allow her to recognize his presence, then lifts up, running his hand along the scales on her back.

"Of course I agree, Cherche." His smile, radiant and content, beams up at the wyverness, dividing his attention between listening to her and lavishing Minerva with adoration. "I'm glad you understand! People generalize animals all the time, thinking that they're all the same! But they're like people, you know?"

"And I think that's beautiful."

[ikanotbelieve]

"Oh!" The male spoke, seeing someone from a distance had he raised his hand and waved at them. It was just an attempt to get their attention but once the male caught up to them.

"Excuse, excuse!" He stated as he held a small feline in his hand, "I found a stray just moments ago, and I’m sure it’s in need of a home. So I was thinking, ‘WOW, look at the fine person. Finer than a glass of wine!’ how about you take it, hm!? Well saying ‘it’ must be rude.. Why don’t they have buttons to say what gender they are, let’s see here—-" And there Kano went, looking between the feline’s legs to find out.

[plegify]

Ah?

He turns when the boy catches up to him, and eyes rest upon the cat cuddled against Kano's chest, a bright smile lights up his expression. In fact, he pays more attention to the cat than he does to Kano himself, and it is only after he's gently patted the feline on the head that Henry acknowledges Kano with a similar smile.

"Is that so?" Listening to Kano continue speaking about adopting the cat, Henry nods, rather happily. "Aha, I'll take good care of it! Don't you worry, mister."

But, as Kano struggles to crudely interpret the gender of the kitten, Henry pulls an unsatisfied face, and a frown deepens as the cat yowls uncomfortably; he offers an alternate proposition: "I could ask it for you! See, I've always been naturally in-tune to nature. Animals, plants, even the wee grasses on the floor, I can communicate with! I'm sure this cat won't mind telling us its gender."

[plegify]

flower language ; ✿ !

Much of his free time was spent roaming the city, trying to secure a location that wasn't cluttered with buildings and buildings and, well... buildings. There seemed to be an excess of human-built structures within this city, though he shouldn't have expected any lesser, from a place far more modernized than he was used to.

But he stumbles upon a lush flower shop, lined nicely with an array of colorful daffodils, roses, lilies... in reds, oranges, pinks, purples, yellows... more flowers than the eye could ever process. It was a sight to behold, and one that took his breath away. With time to waste, Henry slips in through the doorway and into the store. Even inside the store, there are people from many walks of life: teenage girls, looking for that perfect bouquet, and men, asking stores clerks the meanings of certain flowers, as if that truly mattered. 

Spotting one person in particular, he approaches them, tapping them on the shoulder lightly to grasp their attention.

"Hey, hey! Do you want to know what that flower is saying? I can tell you, if you'd like!" Smiling, he wags his finger, as he adds an additional warning. "But be careful, don't pluck it out! If you rip it out of the soil, you'll kill it, and then you'll spoil all the fun."

[domestiquer]

      Flying 15 feet off the ground for a few minutes isn’t exactly the typical amount of exercise Cherche has with Minerva, and with so many people concentrated into these cities, it’s a bit difficult to keep track of each other. So, unfortunately, they’ve both been forced to downgrade to a simple daily walk—it’s nice, but not nearly as fun or enjoyable as soaring through the skies.

      In the midst of her stroll, however, she stumbles upon a young man crouched on the ground. Though, he doesn't appear to be in any sort of pain, his practice of muttering to himself (or so it seems) is rather odd, but as she gets a closer look, she can easily see the familiar, white hair and unique clothing of her good friend—

      ❝Henry? Is that you?❞ She peers down at him, watching him as he continues mumbling strange things. ❝My, in all my months of residence here, I had no idea you were with us!❞

[plegify]

Henry has always had a strange talent for communicating with nature, whether it be flowers, trees, ants... You name it, he could probably talk to it— within given reason, of course: as long as it was alive, communication was viable. Once it withered, however... He was a dark mage by occupation, but he disliked dipping into that range of his powerful sorcery, unless it was to help out a friend.

And here he is, crouching down to talk to a plant; though it would be best to ask a plant that's been in growth for longer, such as a tree, or even a crow, if available, none were accessible to him. He asks, and as he crouches down to listen, he hears more than one voice— one belonging to one of his fellow human comrades.

"Cherche!" Eagerly, he smiles up at the woman, and gestures towards a small plant, growing between the crevices of the pavement. "I'm a bit lost, you see... I was just asking this weed for instructions."

"Ooh, it's good to see you again! And Minerva, too— oh?" His tone rises sharply in question, his head tipping to one side, perplexed by the wyvern's sudden downgrade in size. "The last time I checked, she was huuuuuge!" He holds out his arms up in the air, to amplify the depth of his words. "What happened to her?"

[stagefrights]

❀ iscream, you scream ``

[stagefrights]

     Olivia knew those words to be correct, no matter what the surprise was, she knew it would be spectacular. Henry was always full of surprises, which is what initially drew her to him— aside from the unforeseen circumstances where they met one another. She knew very well what holiday it was, but as her own enthusiasm grew, Olivia still wanted to be surprised. “You’ve got me there, Henry! I wonder what it could be…!!”

    During their journey she mulled over the surprise, keeping hold of his hand between her own; lightly giving a squeeze, as they walked. Chest heaved slightly as thoughts wandered towards his words. Dizziness cursed the dancer, when the final stop was made; eyes glanced hesitantly and excitedly towards the heavily decorated store. In Olivia’s eyes, it was one of the most spectacular events she’d witnessed in her short life.

     ”O-Oh, Henry!” The bright shades of pink catch her eyes, juggling from one fixture to the next, catching a look back to meet with Henry’s gaze. ”I’ve never experienced anything like this before! And really, it’s beautiful!" Eyes glued closely to the many people leaving the store with goods wrapped within their hands, to the pieces pinned firmly within the windows, she caught her senses off guard at the mention of their son. ”H-Huh, oh… Inigo!” For a moment Olivia hesitated her words, stunned and preoccupied with her currents gatherings, quickly turning to face Henry. ”He’d like something like this, r-right?”

     She needed moments to gather her thoughts on their son, after all his arrival happened so suddenly. Still, he was a vital part of the pair, and she wished to know him better. ”… do you think he might show up? Maybe he’s here too— Gods, I shouldn't ask such a question…” In the short time Olivia had grown fond of her son, but knowing his flashy appearance— or rather his love for the ladies, this was the perfect holiday for him.

     ”Thank you for bringing me here! I really appreciate it!” With a nod, she walks through the door, meeting the different shades of pink, and red which graced every turn. It managed to overwhelm Olivia’s senses, not entirely knowing what this certain holiday entailed— aside from spending it with your loved one. “I’m lucky you heard about this!” Voiced honeyed with surprise, she bites the bottom of her lip. “Truthfully, I never expected you to be into this kind of thing.”

[plegify]

"I'm sure he's here somewhere!" he comments upliftingly, his voice lilting gently in tone, doing his best to comfort her, but his expression briefly falls into concern when she continues to worry. He's never been the best at dealing with emotional situations (unless magic was involved, but that was another story, and it never ended well), but he knows that he doesn't like seeing her upset, so he swings their held hands a little, in hopes that that would do the trick. "Aw, Olivia... I'd summon him to where we are, if I could, but I can't do that... He'll be fine, I know it— so please cheer up!! Pretty please, pretty like you?"

He follows behind her, into the store, which was somewhat saturated with people on this day, weaving through various aisles and odd Valentines' memorabilia, squinting slightly at the pink red pink red pink red pink.... red decorations. Nonetheless, it's more than enough for him to see her happy, and there's a tiny part of him that's proud for bringing her here, where she would be comfortable and at ease.

"You're right! All of this stuff doesn't make sense to me. In fact, I don't like it at all— it's too tacky." He gestures a flippant hand towards a section of shiny tin boxes, brassy red in hue, which contain tiny assorted chocolates, a stereotype of this holiday. "If people want this day to be special, they have to come up with something special! Something from the heart. But then again, I'm not one to talk."

"But gosh, I've never seen your face light up like that before! Even brighter than the time I almost burned my face off in wizard school, phew." A light laugh, appreciative of her genuine display of happiness, accentuates the end of his words. As he tiptoes precariously, fingers delicately reach up to pluck a particular item off of a nearby shelf. Of course, he reaches for the highest card, gripping it between the edges of his fingertips. Once he secures his footing back on the tile floor (after some unsteady wobbling), he opens it, to show Olivia. The inside contents are generic, with a cheesy pick-up line and decent graphics, nothing extraordinary.

"What if we got him one of these? Ooh, and what if we wrote someone else's name on it? We could find out where he lives and send it to him!" The very idea makes him smile with mischief, though he hasn't fully considered how difficult it would be to find out their son's whereabouts.

[plegify]

    Olivia tried her best to keep this a secret from Henry-- it was difficult, but she certainly played her own part well. Ornamentation left, she gently leaves a vase laced with a bunch of hydrangeas. As expected, a quick note was left, in case any confusion was sparked.

   Happy Valentine's, Henry!

        I heard you spend this day with those you love most, I wasn't certain on how to celebrate-- but thank you for being here for me, especially in times of need. I hope you have a wonderful day.

           With love,

                        Olivia.

Rare was the day that he had ever celebrated such an event— there hadn't been much cause to, for he never expected that he would actually enjoy the celebrations. But today, a pale gaze falls upon a vase, decorated exquisitely with flowers, in his apartment that hadn't been there before.

Noticing an inconspicuous slip of paper sitting next to the vase, he picks it up, scanning the words curiously, wondering who could have left such a gift on his table without his notice.

As he reads, his face lights up excitedly, almost like a child's, delighted at the unexpected surprise from Olivia. He'd have to make sure to send something to her later, despite it being somewhat overdue— flowers, flowers were nice, right?

Lots of dead flowers— after flowers were cut at the stem, weren't they dead anyway?