He’d heard of the tradition from Edge; Faize put much thought into it--into how to approach it--but ultimately, he felt it embarrassing and perhaps somewhat inappropriate. One might call him far too proper for such a thought, but he was beyond caring what others might think of the part of his life he deems private.
So he’d left for the day; not in avoidance--he did tell the young woman he was headed out--but that he had something to do, and that he’d be back just after sundown.
Faize never broke his promises.
The trek home was a long one--he’d had to walk further out than he’d assumed to acquire what he wanted. Through information from other hardworking Eldarians he’d been provided with enough to work out the rough areas he’d find what he needed. And so in his hands hidden behind his back he holds a gift; one he had arranged himself, without help. It wasn’t the most perfect looking--he was an engineer at best, after all.
But when he’s greeted by the same smile he’s always happy to see--when the soft welcome home leaves the lips of the woman he’s come to adore with the greatest of affections, none of that matters. Nothing has to be perfect--it never really has been between them. They’ve been riddled by mistakes and tough times, but it’s getting through them together than means the most.
She tries to peer around his back and he takes a step away. “Close your eyes,” he encourages, “it’s a surprise.” It’s still rather early; the sun has only just set, and it’s the light from the home behind the girl that illuminates where they’re stood, but he supposes it’s okay. Just this once.
Once she’s done as he’s told her, he pulls the gift from behind him; a bouquet of flowers he put together himself--a collection of daisies, littered with buds of honeysuckle--their meanings more important than the layout, but it’s okay if she doesn’t understand. He gave her a daisy once, upon his return, but he can never offer her enough it seems.
“Happy new year, Lymle. You can open your eyes now.”
