ring around the rosie // erras x lovie

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

l o v i e

The academy is home.

And home makes you happy!

Almost everywhere in the mansion makes her heart flutter. The smell of dinner wafting through the vents, the sound of the fires crackling in the common areas, the yells of the other girls fighting over a shirt. It all made her smile and make her feel all cozy inside.

The greenhouse though, that was really home.

It’s like the flowers perked up a little each time Lovie made her way through the door, and the scent of each individual flower send pure joy through her body as they traveled up her nose. And she can pick them all out individually, too of course. She says good morning to the peonies, the tulips, the lilies, and of course the roses, her prized possession, as she skips through the pathways of the greenhouse. Lovie have plenty of brothers and sisters.

But sometimes she feels like she can only tell the flowers her deepest secrets.

Lovie gently trimming the leaves of the orchids when she hears the door creak open, followed by the sound of rather obnoxious footsteps. She spins on her heels and see exactly who she was expecting.

”Erras!” The squeal escapes her lips as she runs up to him and gives him the biggest hug in the world. It’s been almost 12 hours since they’ve last seen each other, ya know. Her fingers intertwine with his as Lovie leads him to one of the benches donated by a random family in the greenhouse. She sits him down and place his hands out in front of him before returning to her flowers.

”So, how are you?!” She clips a few daisies and place them in his hands before returning to the chrysanthemums. ”And new designs? Any new gossip?” She says over her shoulder as she plucks a few more flowers and adds them to the growing pile he is currently holding. She's been working on her flowering arranging skills and Erras is the perfect model.

”Those daffodils really compliment your skin tone, by the way.”

[gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

   
        ↳ E R R A S                                                      

Bright winter morning, snow singing in the air, and I clear my throat viciously as I walk past a group of laughing children. Their joy evaporates quick. I watch them scurry off like little vermin. Run and take your laughter elsewhere. God, why am I so bitter betty today?

Oh, yeah, it’s because I burned my throat off with whatever poison Farrah brought last night. Awful. I would say she was trying to murder me if she wasn’t busy with already doing that to Farrah.

I curl my arms tightly around my sketchbook, pull it closer to my chest. The dull ache of a hangover in my temples combined with the still-smothering anger towards fuckin’ Bailee was not making today a good morning for designs, marked by how I had drawn the same dress over and over again – trimmed neck, frock sleeves (barf), and a long train. Like, um, basic? If everyone saw that drawing and took it as an paradigm of my artistry, I would throw myself off a cliff.

I stop by the dining hall for two cups of coffee.

Gawking about, there’s not much of a crowd here, although I think I catch a glimpse of Kaine in one of the innermost tables, alone. I’d say hello, but I am late. Have fun with your whatever, dude, I have to go and meet my girl.

The path to the greenhouse is one of my most favored ones because you see the building after you smell it first. Walking up, the air suddenly turns from crisp hoarfrost to the flowery ghost of spring, lilies and lilacs, petunias and roses, and all so entirely Lovie. I take a sip from my cup as I nudge the glass door open with the tip of my shoe and before the coffee can go down, arms overwhelm my wonderfully petite frame.

I gulp the hot liquid down. “Trashed.” I slump down on the bench next to Lovie, crossing my ankles and handing her the other cup of coffee I brought, sweetened to an excess. The old saying ‘you are what you eat’ applies to her, but not me. If I was what I ate, I should be sweet as well. Clearly that isn’t happening soon.

“I had to skip even Moxen’s class today,” I huff, visibly upset. He is one of, if not the only, hot teacher in this awful institution.

I shoot a look at Lovie. “We really deserved that,” I say, and there’s a quiver in my tone I do not smooth out. With her, the pretense does not matter and does not exist. In front of Lovie, I can truly be the raw and exposed wound I see myself as, weeping ugly blood. “I am going to the fuckin’ Capitol one day, Lovie, and I am going to get so popular that I’ll tell everyone to collectively ban the name ‘Bailey’.” My hand reaches out between us towards hers. “Plus, I’ll make you a new dress every day.”

[d1b. xylia fray ♕ kaяi]

l o v i e

They didn't understand him, Erras.

Nobody quite seemed to get him the way Lovie did. He was an artist with a hard exterior, pushing others away in fear of getting hurt. He had been broken one too many times, and she thinks he might be scared he won't be able to put himself back together again. But in reality, he was kind and caring. All soft and mushy on the inside.

Just like an avocado!

She adored him for it. And if he ever dared to fall apart again -

Lovie was the one that had the glue.

The greenhouse was flooded with the sent of expensive cologne and coffee as Erras entered, and Lovie couldn't help but smile. (The flowers were almost enough to drown out the smell of alcohol, but not quite). He throws himself on the bench, making a loud clunk, and she is almost tempted to shush him and reprimand him for disturbing her flowers peace, but he is looking rough so she manages to refrain.

"Trashed"

"Yeah, you look like it," without another word he hands her the extra coffee and she can't help but squeal. A saint, a savior. She kisses him on the cheek before putting the warm liquid to her lips and an elated sigh escapes her. Lovie didn't get hung over, but it still tasted oh so good.

"Such a shame, I know how you enjoy looking at him," she says as she plops next to him on the bench. Lovie knew it was him deflecting, but she played along regardless. It didn't take long for his facade to break, the cracks in his armor showing through. His voice quivers as he speaks and she listens with wide eyes, lips plastered shut until he's down.

"Well I know that, silly. It won't be long before everyone else notices it too," she grabs the hand Erras placed between them and squeeze it tightly before bringing it to her cheek. "Bailey is a stupid name anyway," she giggles before taking her hand back. "Oh my gosh you know how much I love your dresses! But you have to let me design all the flower arrangements in your big fancy house," her nose crinkles as she smiles. She turns herself so she's facing Erras, back resting against the arm of the bench, feet in his lap.

He said we deserve it, and Lovie knows that Erras does, but deep down, she is unsure about herself.

She doesn't let him see.

But her armor is begging to crumble too.