Netherlands Top Group F, Set Up Favorable World Cup Knockout Path!
Netherlands Top Group F, Set Up Favorable World Cup Knockout Path!
Reported by Mustapha Omolabake Omowumi, Managing Editor | Sele Media Malawi
The Netherlands secured a place in the knockout stage of the FIFA World Cup after producing a composed and clinical 3-1 victory over Tunisia to finish at the top of Group F, avoiding a potentially difficult Round of 16 clash with tournament favourites…
A sea of orange completely flooded Houston tonight! 🌊🍊 The Dutch attack was an absolute cheat code against Sweden. Brobbey was clinical early, Gakpo was side-footing volleys for fun, and Summerville capped off the 5-1 party in pure style. This is exactly the kind of beautiful, chaotic football we live for! 🇳🇱🇸🇪⚽️🔥
A sea of orange vs. a wall of blue! 🌊✨ Arlington was absolutely rockin' tonight! The first half was a total goalkeeper showdown between Verbruggen and Suzuki, but the second half was pure chaos. Crosses, absolute rockets, and an 88th-minute equalizer off a shoulder?! This is exactly why we love the World Cup! 🇳🇱🇯🇵⚽️
There are a lot of stories in Group F to upset the expected flow of things. Netherlands has been picked by economist Joachim Klement to win it all, despite being 8th in FIFA rankings. Japan is the highest ranked team in Asia (18th) but are without Kaoru Mitoma. Since crashing out of AFCON, Tunisia has scored just one goal in their last four matches. Sweden miraculously beat both Ukraine and Poland to qualify, having not won a single match in the group phase.
🇳🇱 Netherlands vs 🇯🇵 Japan
Sun Jun 14, 15:00 UTC-5, Dallas
Japan genuinely have one of the best defensive structures in this tournament and will be able to withstand Dutch pressure for a considerable amount of time. Where they’ll fall short is in the counter-attack, where the loss of Mitoma was cost them significantly.
Japan has provided some shockers last year, besting both Germany and Spain to come out on top of a very tough group. But it may be a rough start for Samurai Blue this time around. I’m predicting 1-0 Netherlands.
🇸🇪 Sweden vs 🇹🇳 Tunisia
Sun Jun 14, 20:00 UTC-6, Monterrey
Look for Sweden to dominate possession, trying to get the ball to Viktor Gyökeres at every opportunity. The Tunisian defense could be tough to break down, especially if they’re content with sitting back the whole game.
Gyökeres has been delivering recently, and he’s likely confident after finally cracking the code to success at Arsenal. He’ll find the back of the net. Sweden 1 - Tunisia 0.
🇳🇱 Netherlands vs 🇸🇪 Sweden
Sat Jun 20, 12:00 UTC-5, Houston
Despite playing in the same conference, these two UEFA teams haven’t faced each other in 9 years. A lot of new stars have emerged on both sides since then.
Look for the Swedes to try to absorb pressure for the full duration of the match, taking advantage of counterattack opportunities through Gyökeres and Isak. If Van Dijk is in top form (which he hasn’t been this season, but who knows), he can help squash the Swedish counterattack, ensuring the Dutch can maintain their advantage throughout.
Frankie De Jong will play a key role in sparking Oranje’s offense. 2-1 victory for Ronald Koeman’s men.
🇹🇳 Tunisia vs 🇯🇵 Japan
Sat Jun 20, 22:00 UTC-6, Monterrey
After a disappointing opener, the Japanese will feel the pressure today to get a win. Japan have won 5 of the 6 meetings between the two, including the most recent match (2-0 in 2023).
Tunisia simply haven’t been strong enough to get much past Japan’s tight defense. And their fullbacks, experienced as they are, lack the quality to stop Japan’s threat on the wings, through Keito Nakamura.
Japan wins 2-0.
🇯🇵 Japan vs 🇸🇪 Sweden
Thu Jun 25, 18:00 UTC-5, Dallas
With the Dutch having already booked their place, these two sides will be fighting it out for a result that can propel them into the knockouts. This game will come down to the midfield, and whether Sweden can provide service to their gifted forwards, or whether Japan can press them enough.
I don’t think Sweden will win, but I think they will perform better than expected. The combination of MItoma’s absence and an in-form Gyökeres bodes well for the Blågult. A frantic match ends 2-2.
🇹🇳 Tunisia vs 🇳🇱 Netherlands
Thu Jun 25, 18:00 UTC-5, Kansas City
The Dutch will have already secured their spot in the Round of 32, but without knowing the result of the other fixture, they won’t know if they’ve clinched the top spot. That means having to go all out and still playing your first team.
That will pretty much ruin any chance Tunisia had of picking up some steam at the end of the group phase. They crash out as the Dutch handle them with ease: 3-0.
Author: pizzapizza
Group F: unlikely savior; tangerine; aim a little higher
⭐️⭐️
On a moonless summer's eve, high in the mountains of the Black Forest, a warm, starry wind stirred through the Dark Castle's gardens and carried its sweetness into the chamber above.
Notes of lavender and lily drifted through the lancet windows—through stained-glass chimes, rosy cream veils, and the honey-brown locks of a girl long past her bedtime.
"But Papa, my doll," she pouted. "My magic ate it. I can't get it back."
Rumplestiltskin glanced at her dwindling pile of playthings as he tucked her in. He thought of Belle's disappearing books. Of half the stores missing from his tower. He hadn't any luck retrieving what her magic "ate," either.
"It'll turn up, darling." He kissed her forehead—her small, silky cheek. His eyebrows rose as the dog jumped up, bedding down beside her. "Sultan will suffice in the meantime, hm?"
"What if he gets eaten, too?"
"Goodnight, Lettie."
At the door, as he hushed the candelabra on her mantel, she called for him again.
"Papa?"
"Yes?"
"What if my magic never listens to me?"
Rumplestiltskin's lips thinned. That was the question.
"We'll make it listen," he told her. "Go to sleep, now."
Lettie rolled over, snuggled into Sultan's fur, and sighed.
"Goodnight, Papa."
"Goodnight, sweetheart."
- - -
Gideon was born with magic. Lettie was not.
So, when this contented little girl started spouting smoke and sparkles six weeks ago, it was rather alarming. Belle feared a curse, but, upon closer study, Rumplestiltskin determined their daughter was merely a late bloomer.
And her magic was unruly. Chaotic.
This, coming from the Dark One—six weeks on.
In the West Wing, Rumplestiltskin found his chamber door ajar, an indulgent amber glow spilling into the corridor.
Inside, firelight breathed over polished wood and brocade, clock faces and silver. A robust fire rippled with purple wisps threading its flames—a summertide spell to temper its heat whilst preserving its radiance for long, balmy nights.
At the table near the balcony, Belle pored over a letter in a shapeless cotton shift, her hair swept up to relish the night air on her neck. On a scalloped tea plate between a goblet and vase of wilting wildflowers lay slices of the little orange fruit she favored of late. She ate another without looking up, absently sucking the juice from her fingertips.
Rumplestiltskin smiled.
To fathom all the ways the love of this headstrong princess had saved him was beyond comprehension. All the ways she still did. All the ways she still could. Her redamancy was nothing short of an anomaly.
Belle was never meant to happen to someone like him, whatever True Love deigned.
Yet here they were, in the middle of a life together.
A soft golden shimmer revived the tired bouquet out of the corner of Belle's eye.
She grinned—at the flowers, then him.
"Lettie down?" she asked.
"Finally." He glanced at the letter, already unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Is that from Gideon?"
"It is," Belle said. "My father is taking him on a hunt next week."
Rumplestiltskin snorted as he opened the wardrobe. Gideon was as much a hunter as he was a milkmaid. He looked over his shoulder at Belle, waiting for her retort, but the twist in her smile betrayed her. Rumplestiltskin, for once, took the high road.
"He's ten. A hunt will do him good."
"Because you benefited from many a hunt in your youth," Belle quipped.
Rumplestiltskin smirked. His long lace cravat came off with a swish, the hem of his burgundy shirt freed with a great, end-of-day sigh.
"The summer will pass quickly," he said. "The library will be there come autumn."
"Our library? Or my father's?"
Rumplestiltskin stilled, heart thudding. Belle's gaze fell away when he turned, her thumb worrying the rough edge of the parchment.
"She isn't improving, is she?"
A terrible ache gripped Rumplestiltskin's chest. He wanted to tell her it was safe for Gideon to come home. But he would not invite her despair with half-truths.
"She's a child, Belle."
"How did she do today?"
Rumplestiltskin hesitated. But the breeze answered for him—ruffling the wide neck of his shirt enough to bare the bright purple scorch mark over his heart.
Damn it.
"Wait—"
Belle backed him into the wardrobe. Its doors clacked, a handle jabbing his spine. He arched away with a grimace, then tensed when the cool air hit his skin from her pulling his shirt aside. Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes.
Must she gasp so loudly?
"Oh, all right," he relented. "Her aim… stands to improve."
"Does it hurt?"
"'Tis but a scratch."
Belle shook her head, fingers skimming where Lettie's agitated magic still thrummed under his skin—where the gold flecks she counted as she fell asleep had been burned away.
Rumplestiltskin gently covered her hand with his own. He pressed it to the mark, letting her feel his heartbeat beneath the magic's dull pulse.
"The Dark One was struck by a five-year-old's rogue energy blast," he muttered, wry but warm. "I think I'll live."
"What happened?" she demanded. "Exactly?"
"I had her adjust for a target. She aimed higher, but"—there's the rub—"her magic didn't listen."
Belle sighed. "What if it never does, Rumple?"
A small, helpless smile surfaced. He smoothed a fallen curl back into place. Admired her brilliant blue eyes as the fire cracked over the forest's evensong.
"Oh, ye of little faith." He drew her close, pliant under the warmth of her weight and the peace it put in his heart. "You sound just like your daughter."
"Be it I was blithe…"
Rumplestiltskin caught her face when she tried to look away. She pursed her lips as he cupped her jaw and reunited their gaze, stroking her cheek with his thumb until the corner of her mouth rose.
Courage, dear heart.
"Have any of your books returned?" he asked.
A dim smile. "No. Any of your ingredients?"
"No. Though I'd settle for the Jabberwocky heart."
Belle's fingers closed around his wrist, grazing his pulse. A knot cinched in her stomach as her gaze strayed to the scorch mark again.
"What does it say that the Dark One can't control his own child's magic?"
Rumplestiltskin kissed the crease between her furrowed brows.
"It breeds patience, my love."
Belle closed her eyes as their foreheads touched. She breathed him in, noses brushing, and finally settled into his embrace.
"She will be fine," he said.
"I know she will."
"I promise."
Belle tilted her mouth up just so. The hand at her cheek slipped into her hair as he obliged, capturing her sticky-sweet lips in a firm, reassuring kiss. When it broke, an uncertain breath lingered between them—stillness weighed against stirrings.
Rumplestiltskin kissed her again.
A chord opened. From it, a song.
Belle stepped in when she heard it, hands climbing his bared chest with heat and hunger, a swell of fervor too sharp to ignore. Her touch encouraged his own, and he angled her face to deepen their kiss, to savor the citrus and sweet red on her tongue.
To slowly sip her fire until they frayed beyond restraint.
A velvety growl rumbled low in his throat. Rumplestiltskin tore away.
He hooked an arm behind her knees and scooped her up—"Rumple!"—whirling toward the bed with a wicked grin. Her glittering eyes darkened in return, piercing low, stoking his appetite.
Lettie did want a little sister—
"Papa, I did it!"
Rumplestiltskin pitched forward, feet tangling. Belle clung to his neck with a squeak as he stumbled, expecting the crash, but by some miracle, he didn't drop her. They looked at one another once he regained his footing, chests heaving, then turned toward their daughter's voice.
"Lettie—?"
Rumplestiltskin froze.
In the middle of the bed, Lettie held up her doll, seated atop the sprawling mountain of things her magic had "eaten": books, blocks, bottles, brushes. Three tapestries. A suit of armor. Chicken feed and candlewicks. Behind her, Sultan sniffed and barked, tail wagging furiously as he unearthed his favorite ball.
Belle slowly brought her hand to her mouth.
Lettie stood, catching herself on Sultan's back when she wobbled. Pewter pots and loose buttons trickled and clanged underfoot, but she posed proudly, her little chin held high.
"I did it all by myself!" she said. "I yelled at my magic, and I made it listen!"
Rumplestiltskin blinked.
"…You yelled at it."
"Yes!"
Rumplestiltskin's eyes shifted.
How, precisely, did one yell at magic?
Belle snickered as he set her down. He shot her a mildly exasperated look—one that clearly said we did this.
She beamed and hid her face in his neck, shaking with silent laughter as their arms wrapped around one another. It melted his bewilderment into beguilement; gods help whoever crossed their daughter.
"She acts just like you," Rumplestiltskin said.
Belle lifted her head. "Me?"
Sultan barked at something. Lettie bent to pick it up.
The dagger's glint caught Rumplestiltskin's eye—and he lunged.
Author: Olivetheotherreindeer
Group F: Gold-thread embroidery; museum, winter garden; “dandelions are not flowers”
(TW seasonal depression)
⭐️
Belle sat in the window seat of the library of the Dark Castle looking out at the dim grayness that had overtaken the grounds in the last few months.
“Belle!”
Rumple’s concern grew at the demeanor of how Belle noticed him, usually she could sense when he was in the same corridor as her. Her mouth was pulled in something resembling a smile, her eyes looked distant, “Hello Rumple.”
His fingers rubbed together in his nervous way as he debated between summoning the kingdom’s doctors, or making her drink all the potions he possessed to bring her back to the lively soul she usually was.
“Are you ill?” He finally settled on asking.
Her brows furrowed, “No, I’m not ill, why?”
He huffed slightly, “Well you’ve been, odd.”
Belle’s gaze focused on him intently at that, “Odd? Me?” Her voice went up an octave.
He noticed her spark returning with that retort and he felt mischief unfurl in his heart, “Well you certainly aren’t winning any Maid of the Year awards.” Rumple noted sliding a finger along the table noting the dust.
She narrowed her eyes, “If you weren’t so messy I wouldn’t have to dust constantly.” She muttered looking back out the window.
“As long as you are sitting by the window, why not wash it?” He suggested snarkily snapping his fingers, letting a rag plop in her lap.
“Rumplestiltskin!” She shrieked, hurling the rag at his face.
He secretly was ecstatic at her reaction to him pestering her, it meant she wasn’t completely lost to whatever had been taking over her mind lately, but her reaction was a bit extreme, something she seemed to notice immediately.
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s been the matter.”
He looked at her while she gathered her thoughts.
“I get like this sometimes in the winter, I don’t know why, I just…get pulled into this wave of despair, I’m tired all the time, I feel hopeless, I can barely make myself do anything I enjoy…”
He stepped closer to the window seat before sitting next to her, “You weren’t like this last winter.”
“Last winter was different, it was my first time here, I was exploring the castle, your museums of artifacts, getting to know my way around, getting to know…” she trailed off a bit as she caught his gaze.
“This winter, it’s hitting me more than it would before. I miss the life of your estate, the animals, the plants, all the little yellow flowers.”
“Yellow flowers?” He mused to himself, trying to think of which flower in particular she was missing the most, if he knew maybe he could make a deal with Mother Nature to have one in exchange for something.
“Yes, those little bright ones that pop up everywhere, then turn white and puffy.” Belle’s expression turned a bit dreamy, “I would make crowns from the yellow ones, and pick the white ones and blow their fluffs to watch them drift off.”
Rumplestiltskin looked at her incredulously, “Are you talking about dandelions?”
Belle hummed, “I used to call them wish flowers.”
“Dandelions are NOT flowers, those are weeds, pests, they grow everywhere and choke the other vegetation.” Rumple waved his hand around in the air to emphasize his point, miming choking himself to see if she laughed, she barely chuckled.
“They’re still so beautiful.” Belle sighed wistfully.
His arms dropped to his lap shaking his head, “Out of all the yellow flowers in the realm, the daffodils, the loosestrifes, the daylilies, the forsythia, the buttercups, the rapeseeds, and you miss the dandelions” He huffed a laugh, “Though I shouldn’t be surprised.” He appraised her thoughtfully.
She raised an eyebrow at that remark, and he gave her a small grin, “You have a penchant for liking things that are… disliked by others.”
A slight blush raised in her face, it was the most color she’s had in weeks.
“Well, let me search my apothecary.” Rumple rose from his seat heading towards the door of the library.
“No I-” She cried out.
He spun back around to look at her.
“I don’t want to have to have something for this, or end up in a dungeon surrounded by mages.”
Her lips quivered, her voice breaking as she took in a shaky breath, unable to quiet the cry, “I don’t want to be broken.”
Rumple strode over to her in two quick steps pulling her into an embrace, “Belle,” He breathed her name like a prayer and a curse.
She buried her face into his chest taking shattered breaths as she continued to cry.
He mentally went through every curse he could think of to send to her father, that damned Maurice.
“You don’t have to worry about mages here, a dungeon maybe, but you’ve upgraded bedchambers since your first night here.”
She snorted a laugh gulping down a sob, “I don’t mind the dungeons here, that pillow made it pretty comfortable.”
He smiled softly, “Well, as beastly as I am dearie, even I wouldn’t send mages to scourge and flay you for a bit of winter sadness.”
“My father-”
“Your father is a shite, but in my castle, in my care, I won’t let any harm come to you.” His tone was earnest, he was trying not to completely break his Dark One persona, but she was hurting.
She shook her head, her hand reaching to wipe her tears from her cheeks and placed her hand on his chest, “Thank you Rumple, so much.”
She took a couple deep breaths and then looked up at him, “I can go start dinner.”
Rumple shook his head, “You go rest, I’ll have something brought up to your room.”
Belle’s brow furrowed, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure Belle, you go rest.”
She took one last deep breath nodding, “Thank you, for understanding.”
What seemed like ages after she had closed her chamber door, Rumplestilstkin was trying to think of something to do to help her.
He sat at his wheel spinning as he thought, this time not to forget, but to brainstorm.
The next day when Belle exited her chambers, she was surprised to find Rumplestiltskin waiting in the corridor.
“I have something for you.”
“Should I make breakfast first?”
“Belle, I wanted to make breakfast for you, for today,” He quickly corrected himself, his cheeks taking on a bit of a darker hue.
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” She murmured.
They walked in silence until they reached the library’s closed doors.
“There’s something that I want to show you,” he said looking at her.
She nodded, reaching towards the door handles.
“But first!” He leapt in front of her blocking the door, “You’ll have to close your eyes.”
She raised an eyebrow, curious about his request.
“It’s a surprise.” He gave a sheepish grin.
“I am familiar with the library Rumple.” She teased, but closed her eyes to appease him.
Rumple narrowed his eyes at her, and then waved a hand in front of her face to make sure she wasn’t peeking.
“I’m going to grab your hands now, and lead you inside.” He warned her, he didn’t want the touch of his hands to disgust her.
Her hand waited for his, and he gingerly led her into the library, the door groaning as it opened.
Belle’s fingers intertwined with Rumple’s as they walked into the library, his scaled skin surprisingly warm against hers.
“Can I open them?” She asked after they had stepped in a bit further.
“No, no, not yet,” he paused, giving her hands a squeeze before releasing them, “Wait here.”
Belle stood where he had left her, listening as he skittered about the room, she turned towards each sound, but still kept her eyes closed, “Now can I open them?”
“Alright, now,” his voice was chiming with anticipation and revelry.
Belle opened her eyes, and gasped, her gaze flying over the room, wanting to absorb everything she was seeing, “Oh Rumple, it’s beautiful.”
Covering each set of windows in the library were giant embroidered tapestries made with his special golden thread, each one depicted a beautiful nature scene, flowers, and trees shimmering in the light let in from the dullness outside, shining through the tapestries like golden stained glass.
She looked at each tapestry and wanted to sob, the gratitude and adoration she was feeling towards Rumple almost had her falling into his arms again.
“Your own winter garden.” Rumple’s voice sounded from beside her.
She turned to him feeling tears welling her eyes again, but unlike the last couple months, they were tears of happiness.
“Oh Rumple, thank you so much, I can’t believe you did this for me.”
She couldn’t contain her joy and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He was stiff at first, then melted into her embrace.
“I can’t have my maid be mopey and miserable.” He chuckled, trying to brush off her thanks, before pulling something from behind his back for her to see.
She squealed wordlessly with excitement.
He couldn’t contain his own smile as he raised the crown he had made her to place it on her head.
“I thought you said dandelions weren’t flowers?” She asked, raising a brow teasingly, her lips pulled in a smirk.
Author: Guardian of the Scrolls
Group F: gold-thread embroidery; museum, winter garden; "dandelions are not flowers"
⭐️
The sun of spring was already shining high in the sky. Belle was getting sweaty even though she was working under a white tent. Slowly, she got up from where she was sitting on the ground and stretched. As an archaeologist, Belle was used to working on her knees for long periods of time, but she was still happy to be taking breaks sometimes.
“Are you alright there, sister?” The loud voice belonged to no other than Leroy, her workmate on sites like this. He was helping to remove the layers of the earth with his machines so the archaeologists could work more precisely on the deeper layers.
“Yes, thank you, Leroy,” she smiled. “I’m just going for a change of scenery.”
The newest project they were working on was a16th century graveyard site in a small town in Kent. A new road was being built over the place where the people once laid down their loved ones to rest. The local museum had been interested in the project ever since it was announced. The graveyard now stood close to a beautiful mansion that had belonged to an Earl during the 18th century but now operated as a part time museum and had offered to let the people working on the site use their facilities.
Belle walked through the Winter Garden to the mansion. The flowers were not yet blooming there as spring didn’t seem to have arrived closer to the building yet.
Inside the house, there was a cup of tea waiting for her and hopefully some biscuits, if Leroy hadn’t eaten them all already.
Ruby, the project’s anthropologist and Regina, the head of the project were talking when Belle walked in.
“A local legend? That’s the only reason they are interested in this?” Ruby made a frustrated sound. “What if we do not find what they seem to think we will? They will take away our funds and then we will have to rush this whole thing.”
“I know, Miss Lucas.” Regina Mills said in a stern voice. “I will do what I can to not let that happen.”
Belle sat down at the table while she waited for her tea to brew.
“What are they hoping we will find?” she asked curiously.
Regina sighed. “An intern told me that the museum is hoping to get more tourists to come to the area. There is a local legend spoken of around here that tells the story of a golden rose that was buried here. So if we find this treasure, things will be better for them, or so they say.”
Belle listened to their conversation with interest while she drank her tea, and wondered what would happen if she DID find the rose, or something even more interesting. WIth that thought in mind, she set down her cup, and began to walk back to the dig site.
When Belle got back, she examined the place where Leroy and his fellow workers had uncovered a new area, still largely untouched by her colleagues. Belle took a look at the depth readings on the tablet and noticed how unclear the readings were.
“Well,” she thought, “let’s start there.”
She took the equipment with her to the designated place and started to try the depth analysis again. Not even a minute had passed before she realized why the former readings weren’t that helpful. The ground had a layer of stones that had clearly been placed there on purpose. It was not that out of place for a graveyard, as the more wealthy people wanted to be laid to rest in their own crypts. In this case, however, those sorts of graves had already been revealed in an area on the other side of the site.
“Okay then,” Belle put her hands on her hips, thinking that the find was odd, “Let’s get to work.”
It took almost a whole afternoon of removing the stones layer by layer, with Leroy’s help to get to the softer earth and clay underneath. Belle was absolutely thrilled to finally get to the most exciting part of her job.
Getting on her knees again, she started to scrape off the clay’s layers once more and soon she found the darker colors of the old wooden remains of the coffin. Going with her small spade to the right she started searching carefully for the roundness of the skull. Bones were fragile and were dependent on the type of soil where they were located to be well preserved or not. From the skull she started to go deeper to lay open the face and what teeth were left; to uncover the shoulders and clavicles. That is when she realized that this was no regular grave. This individual was still wearing clothes.
–
Regina, as head of the project, had to be informed of the find and she thought it best to contact an old colleague of hers. Professor Gold was an embroidery and textile historian working at the university of Glasgow.
“He is the only one who is going to be willing to help me on this case,” muttered Regina.
Belle had heard of this man, of course. Mr Gold was a very well known and respected name in the historian world. His wide knowledge was highly favored.
–
The next day, when Belle arrived at work, she was greeted by Regina and a man in a suit, who held a cane. He was wearing sunglasses.
“Doctor French, I would like to introduce you to Professor Gold. Gold, this is Doctor French, the archeologist who made the discovery.”
The man gave her a small smile and extended his hand for her to shake. Belle noticed he was wearing leather gloves.
“Good morning, Doctor French.” Belle could hear a soft Scottish accent.
“Welcome to our site, Professor.”
Regina had no time for pleasantries. “Doctor French, I would like you to assist Professor Gold at the site today. The findings are to be well recorded.”
–
Belle led Gold through the Winter Garden of the mansion to the white tents on the site. Some flowers had begun to grow and she commented on it to start a conversation.
“Dandelions are not flowers,” Gold said.
Belle laughed, “Taraxacum is a genus of flowering plants. It’s right there in the name.”
“And how do you know that?” He tilted his head.
“My dad was a florist. He loved doing botany.”
Belle took her tools and brought Gold to the place where she found the individual. She had kept working a bit on the skeleton and had excavated to the ribs.
Gold removed his sunglasses and pocketed them. He planted his cane in front of him while he looked at the site before him. Belle had noticed he limped and likely what caused him to use a cane. It must be hard to work in the archeology field with such a disability. It was clear though, from his harsh expression. that Gold wasn’t going to say anything.
“Would you like me to get you a stool so you can sit easier?”
Gold looked up sharply at that, but whatever he saw in her face seemed to calm him down somewhat, and with a careful nod he said, “That would be most helpful. Thank you.”
Sitting together, she and Gold started working. Gold made notes on the tablet on what she exposed to the air after five centuries. It quickly became clear that the grave was not of one, but two people. They were buried with their hands intertwined.
“What do you think, Professor? Were they lovers, family members, room mates?” she chuckled at her own small joke.
Gold didn’t answer. He was looking intently at the clothes of the smallest skeleton. Belle followed his gaze. On their arms, each linked with the others’ something was shining in the sunlight creeping through the tent.
Gold carefully knelt down to touch it. “It’s a golden brocade,” he said, “in the form of a rose.”
Belle knelt next to Gold brushing aside some earth. She saw another sparkle and started to remove chunks of earth from underneath the individuals’ hands. Silently, Belle and Gold revealed a white porcelain cup.
