After his time with Jane Emile had made a mental note to go back to collect lavender to try and replant some in his small window garden but time seemed to slip by him it was only now that he was even trying to do so. An old withered sprig of Marigold was removed from its pot and Emile had donned his bag and returned to the field. It was a method he was more than used to now. It was simple really, mark out the area around the plant and where he suspected its roots were, giving the plant probably more room than he actually needed but better safe than sorry. Lavender was a useful plant to have around, not only were it's uses wildly applicable... Frankly, Emile hoped it would help him. With his father gone he felt more isolated than ever, sure he had Jane if he needed he still wasn't able to get over the wall he felt had risen up between himself and his other siblings, the garden was really the only reason he had to get up and do things. The little flowers growing at his window was the only life that needed him... And it did need him. So he'd remain if only for them, for the little floral lives that would wither without his care. But Lavender was meant to be calming and he hoped it would... Help.

Emile focused himself back on his work, gently finishing the circle he wanted to draw in the dirt. Then he slowly began to dig outside the circle, removing earth around the plant, it was slow, delicate work, aided mostly by the fact that he had transplanted a few plants now. His movements were a bit more confident than his usual demeanor and his movements were smooth. Not that he expected anyone to even see or notice him, as was usual he'd made sure he was alone when he'd made his trip out of the pack lands, he would take his time while out by himself, the only time he was really given a chance to breathe. He was almost tender in his demeanor, he would gently brush the flower when he needed to move it to continue digging down closer to its stem and he seemed to watch carefully where his paws went when he moved around the plant he was planning to transpose, not wanting to crush any of the other clusters of flowers that grew around his current choice.

Finally, Emile would have his plant, he'd dug around the roots of the flower and so while he had the plant itself there was still a substantial chunk of earth connected to its roots, in a vague cone shape with the tip pointed towards the ground. He gently slid the open pouch of his bag towards the flower and set about very carefully lifting and shifting the plant so that it was safely tucked away in his bag, the petals turned towards the skies. Then the slow and careful return to the castle. He was careful not to jostle the bag slung across his back. His movements becoming only more careful as he drew back into pack lands, doing his best to avoid as many wolves as he could, head ducked to angle his scarred eye out of view as best as he could. He moved as quickly as he dared towards his room, forcing his mind to remain on the task at hand to keep himself from breaking into hysterics.

Emile arrived at his own room and gently set the bag down against a wall to keep it upright, under the window with his other small pots. He had a small pile of fresh dirt and began to partially fill the pot with dirt, before it was even half full he carefully, gently, moved the lavender sprig to the pot, then continued to fill what space was left with the leftover dirt. A small bowl of water was poured over the newly transplanted flower and Emile gently packed the earth with his paws, mud coating his toes as he make sure the dirt would keep the dirt from separating, like a new graft you had to try and help the new earth to accept the old.

Finally, the young man would gently place the pot back up on the sill and settled himself back down on his haunches with a huff, his tongue unfurling from his open jaw. It wasn't a particularly hard work but delicate work took it's own toll if not physically than mentally. In fact the young man had been so focused on the task as hand he'd failed to notice he'd forgotten to close his door, leaving a clear view into his room for anyone who walked by, the first time in a long time his door was open while he was in his room, even if this was not by choice.

WC: 824

Speech

Art by Nyssa

Though Bowen had been back with the Hallows wolves for some time, she still didn't know who lived where within the castle. Hell, she still didn't know some of the wolves that were her packmates. The woman had become reclusive. She often spent her days locked away or out exploring. There was no real desire to mingle, even with her own family. After sending Haiku back to Abaven, Bowen was really, really lonely. Despite this, she avoided others as much as possible, becoming a ghost in her own home.

The castle was quiet today and the nice weather made the caramel and cream fae believe that everyone was outside enjoying it. Peering out into the hall, she didn't see or hear anyone, so it seemed like a good opportunity to do a little work. Taking up a straw broom, the woman moved up and down the hall, sweeping up rogue fur, debris, cobwebs. She made her way around the circuit, noting an odd trail of dirt coming starting at the stairwell. It wasn't much, but it was enough of a trail to follow as she swept.

With the wooden handle between her teeth, Bowen made short work of the dirt, brushing it into a little pile that she would pick up during her second pass. From the stairwell behind her came loud, excited voices and it threw the woman into a panic. Just the idea of being forced to interact with someone; being forced to fake it... anxiety flared within her. She just wasn't comfortable enough with herself to be social. And so, like a coward, the slender fae spied an open door and ducked inside, gently closing it behind her. Within her chest, her heart hammered and she stared at the door, waiting for the happy sounds of conversation to end so that she could resume her task.

From behind her, the sound of stone on stone almost made the fae jump out of her skin. Pink lips parted in a soft gasp and she turned, emerald eyes wide to see none other than Emile standing across the room. This was his room! Bowen visibly grimaced, ears tucking back as she seemed to shrink in on herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered, backing against the door, but was still unable to make herself open it as the voices outside had yet to stop echoing in the halls.

"Bowen"

Bowen slipped into the room while he was putting the Lavender back, the calmness that had taken over his actions once he'd been sure he was alone and would not be disturbed meant he'd let his guard down, he had let the sounds outside be just that, sounds beyond what he'd thought was a closed door. But he'd been wrong, a familiar voice, one that set his mind shooting straight through the stages of panic right into full-on fight or flight. He grew rigid, only the fact the pot was still teetering just on the edge of the windowsill keeping him from freezing completely. He made sure the plant was safely balanced on the stone, his chest already rising and falling rapidly though not yet full-on hyperventilation, the puckered skin around his eye aching. Emile closed his eyes, willed himself to have been wrong, to have just been jumping at shadows. Bowen would not come to his room, she would not, not after what he'd done. She must have just been passing by outside... Slowly, he lowered himself and turned...

And his hope was wrong. There, cowering in front of the door was Bowen... Instantly he backed up, rump slamming into the wall behind him just under the sill, his tail tucking, ears pulling back and his head ducking to hide his scar, to hide his shame. He cast his eyes away. He felt massive. The few enough times he and the young woman had shared a space since their encounter Emile had gone out of his way to put as much distance between himself and her that he could. He felt massive around her like he would move and he'd break her, he'd step on her, like everything around him was made of china and he was the proverbial bull. But this? This was the biggest he'd ever felt, like the room's walls and roof were pressing in on him and if he so much as breathed he'd shatter the whole room, entomb them both in stone. Her voice had reached him but the panic had been near-instant, her apology was lost on him, and even if he'd had been of the mind to register it, he'd never have gleamed its meaning. His mind could not grasp the way she held herself, the fact that she was very clearly herself not in a good way. All he could think of was how to avoid hurting her, an impossible task when you felt like a giant. "I'mmmmmm s-s-s-s-sorrrrrry." He barely managed to squeak out, whatever he'd done, whatever had made her come here to face him, he regretted it. It had been his intention since that day to never give her a reason to see him again, so the fact he was here was probably his fault too. Because he was selfish, because he was an idiot, because he wasn't worth anything, so this too must be his fault.


Speech

Art by Nyssa

Gods, what a mess! The look of panic on Emile's face sent Bowen sinking lower to the ground. This was his space and she was intruding on it. It was no secret that he had been avoiding her. She'd been avoiding him as well. Not just him, though. Everyone. The woman was so uncomfortable in her own skin since returning to the castle that she wasn't ready to interact with others. Everyone was on one side and Bowen stood alone on the other. No one made her feel ostracized other than herself. The wolves of The Hallows were nothing but kind. She was such a wreck.

Shuddering words crossed the distance between them as Emile apologized. Viridian eyes opened wide, panicked, and Bowen shook her head. Why was he apologizing to her? The voices in the hall drew nearer, laughing, carrying on. The copper and cream fae cringed and moved away from the door in case they were to see her shadow beneath it. In doing so, Bowen slid all the way into an empty corner, far from the door and far from Emile. She pressed herself as tightly to that corner as she could manage in the hopes that, by doing so, she would somehow become one with the wall and save herself from this embarrassment.

What in the hell was wrong with her? She wasn't like this when she was younger. She wasn't even like this after she first returned to the castle. Now that she was acclimated to being here... had something changed? Yes, she had been incredibly anxious and lonely since asking Haiku to leave, but... had that single thing thrown her emotional processes upside down? The woman was a wreck. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, then sank to the ground in a little caramel colored ball, wrapping her long tail over her face as she tried to breathe and control herself enough to leave.

"Bowen"