— for: @noretribution | 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔. a certain way this must be done, and must be done right. always one for ritual, this is one she cannot –– will not –– back away from: the gifts are unloaded from her case one by one, handled delicately and gently, and the paper she has memorized ( read over twice - fold, thrice even ) is slipped from her back pocket, regarded, then put back. His table is set for dinner, though she’s sure her appetite has escaped her. this man [ as strong and sturdy as her... half as witty and twice as kind, she’s come to learn ] sits across from her as she works. she clears her throat, sets the stage.
❝ we’ve been... seeing each other for some time. i thought it was appropriate to present you with these trinkets, as according to a tradition from home. ❞ there is a pause, a moment of waiting, and then she continues: ❝ we will begin with this. ❞ she says, the first gift of a coconut presented and opened. inside its hollowed core is a nectarine’s seed strung on a chain and a bracelet, the first of which she lifts upwards and offers. her eyes shine with expectancy, anxiety underneath. ❝ a bounty, hoped for and not yet achieved ( ... ) here, lean forwards ––– let me put it on you. ❞