Meet Disaster || Rosekken
Drakken still had a bad taste in his mouth about that whole…whatever the hell that dream he had awoken from the day after Valentine’s had been. He had woken up and looked around at the various snacks that surrounded him on the bed and the Emma (2009) BBC miniseries playing on his laptop and just figured his brain must have not taken too kindly to the overload on junk food.
But at school that day all the kids and other teachers had gone on about this dream that he had to learn that it was some sort of magic the town put them under. A shared dream! Which meant that everyone in it had dreamed their roles and that meant those that had spoken to him had seen him as some servant! Ugh, how revolting.
Just a week later Drakken had been walking down the street, on his way back home from the store, when he made the mistake of passing by the flower shop. He had been meaning to get some sort of house plant for his room since they were proven to enhance oxygen levels and productivity!
Drakken stepped forward to inspect some of the plants out front. When someone’s car horn went off he popped up and knocked his head against one of the hanging pots above him. It swung off its hook and went crashing to the ground. He stumbled back at the sound of it smacking the concrete and hit the next one off with his head, too.
Rosetta had spent the past week contemplating the past anomaly. You’d think that after living in the town for around fifty years she’d be used to these occurrences. But the events that rewrote her or cast her into an entirely new life, always unsettled her. Some things of course always seemed to transfer over, but in this last instance it was almost as though someone hit a reset button, erasing decades of her life.
However, the chaos of Valentine's Day orders, had kept her from over analyzing things as much as she could have. The redhead was definitely planning on spending a weekend in the hollow. If only to remind her, that her relationship and place there still existed and hadn’t been displaced by the dream.
Nor was she interested in the upcoming speed dating event. Tonight, all that she had planned was a home spa date, with chocolate covered strawberries, take out food, and a (not regency) romance novel. Maybe something kind of Hallmarky. She was in the back tending to a drooping fern (nearly dead) that someone had dropped off in hopes that Rosetta could revive it.
While plant hospital wasn’t exactly apart of Garden Grove’s official business duties, sometimes Rosetta would taken on the odd plea. It was satisfying to her to bring back something from the brinks of death and restore beauty to some ugly withered thing. However her inspection was interrupted by the sounds of things breaking, a flower pot.
Her floral apron was hastily thrown on to protect her floral skirt and pink blouse from the possible mess, and her pink heels clicked loudly as she rushed to examine the damage. “Are you alrigh-- Oh It’s you.” She had seen some unfortunate soul playing bull in a china shop, her concern morphing into surprise when recognized the stranger. Ah, yes. The not lord, whom she had punched and broken his nose. Her hand ached at the phantom memory. Her eyes surveyed the plant carnage, and the hapless man.
Really, he had a knack for getting injured. “How’s your head? Do you need an ice pack?” She could save the flowers later, or get one of the other employees to clean up the dirt, sorry potting soil.
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