Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and its compilation are the creations of Square Enix, not mine.
Summary: She supposed someone like Vincent Valentine would know these things.
Author's notes: Fic #6 for Livejournal community Ficlets on Demand's Fic a Day June Challenge '08. Request: Floral language by miyukimina.
Offerings
by monitor screen
-o-
Shelke was surprised to see the flowers. It had not occurred to her that such customary niceties were called for. This was no ceremony, after all.
But she supposed someone like Vincent Valentine would know.
The ruins of Midgar were deadly still under a grey sky. Even the faint sounds of city from Edge were dampened, leaving only soft whispers of the wind around them. Shelke watched as Vincent laid the dainty blossoms at the base of a crushed mako tube, feeling oddly dispassionate, despite that she had been the one to suggest coming here.
She had to see, even if she had already known the outcome.
The pink of the petals contrasted sharply with burnt concrete and warped steel. Shelke squinted, unaccountably drawn to the gentle dips and curves of the corolla. Beside her, Vincent was silent, his air distant.
"Well, now I know for sure," Shelke said, affecting an impersonal tone and finally turning away. Her companion did not respond, merely regarded her with inscrutable eyes. It brought up feelings that Shelke would rather not contemplate.
She looked away. "... Where did you get these flowers, Vincent Valentine?"
She could practically sense the press of scrutiny lifting. Vincent's voice was low, as per usual, "I sometimes bring these with me, when I... visit Lucrecia."
Strange; Shelke had no recollection of such a preference. "She liked them?"
Vincent's hair brushed his cheeks when he shook his head once, quick and minute. "No more than any other flora." He answered the unspoken question after a pause, "I just think it is appropriate."
Now he perked her interest. Hers and more. "Why?"
But Vincent only shrugged, and they stayed wordless like that until dusk brought shadow over everything.
--
Afterwards, Shelke had almost forgotten about the question.
Almost. It was raised again one day when she watched Tifa tended to the bouquet of roses one of her admirers sent. Rich fragrance spread over the room as Tifa neaten the branches.
"Flowers mean things, do they, Tifa Lockhart?"
"Well, I guess it depends on the situation... Oh, wait, you mean if different flowers have different meanings?" Tifa's voice was temporary cut off as she went to the next room to fill the vase. "... Yes, some people assign meanings to them. I think I have this book Yuffie gave me somewhere..." She tilted her head at the roses, adjusting a few branches, "I can lend it to you, if you're interested." Apparently satisfied, she set the vase on a side table, and proceeded to tidy up.
Shelke waited till she was done to answer, "I am interested."
The book was colourfully illustrated and written in flowing cursives. Shelke sifted through the pages; there were a lot of pink flowers. She settled on a kind that looked most like those held by metal claw, and started reading.
... largest of wild roses and the bushes can grow quite tall. The rosehips carry a large amount of nutrient and are beneficial in teas, wines and syrups. Originally called the 'Dag Rose' due to its dagger-like thorns, it is now called "Dog Rose" for its use in treating the bite of rabid dogs. In the language of flowers it symbolises pleasure mixed with pain...
A flash of irrelevant guilt emerged before Shelke caught herself. She could see the connection in Vincent's comment. And as the elaborate painting on the page superimposed with the memory of soft petals on cracked concrete, Shelke thought she could agree with the sentiment, too.
-o-