I hope you all like this, I'm not going to be writing for a while. Because I need to get somethings in my life straightened out, but in the meantime I hope you like the oneshot I made for you all. If you look really closely, there's some mini 'teaser-spoilers' for later chapters of my story. I hope you like and please review, Thank you!!
"Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage which we did not take, towards the door we never opened into the rose garden." – T.S. Eliot
She liked roses. She liked them because they were the flower of her birth, the Queen of all Flowers and in her opinion the most beautiful of all. Even thought they weren't the cheapest flowers at the florist's. Still, she adored everything about them, their varied alluring scents, their smooth velvety petals, their large shapely leaves, and most of all she liked the flower for their colors, colors as vivid and brilliant as a living rainbow.
She had found that roses were fragile and delicate, easily crushed by a careless or strong grip, and yet they were also quite deadly, armed with barbed thorns that grew down their sides, their own built in armor. Strong enough sometimes to detour anyone who should be tempted to come near, lest they suffer a painful wound. Yes, roses were very much a living paradox in her opinion.
Earlier that morning, she had spotted her favorite little scullery maid in the kitchen staring at a fresh pile of flowers and a china vase. The look of glumness upon the girl's face had been heartrending, apparently she had been ordered by one of the senior maids to arrange flowers, narcissus and jonquils to be exact for the parlour that had just been cleaned out the day before. Which had been like asking the girl to read a book, she couldn't do it, let alone arrange flowers.
So in that case, now she currently stood doing the task for her in the current room where she had planned to spend the day anyway. Her thoughts upon her task, as she slowly and meticulously pruned the long stalks to a suitable length placing them slowly and carefully into the vase. As she was busying herself with this menial task, she couldn't help but begin to observe the others also in the room about her, each occupied doing his or her own activity.
She smiled furtively to herself, this house was very much like a garden unto itself she realized. That could be both grown or destroyed at the simple utterance of a word or a deed done, at the whim of the whatever gardener was there at the time. For her companions were indeed very much like the roses she held dear, very much alike indeed.
Her gaze rested upon the redheaded figure currently spouting words along the lines of 'unscrupulous magic' and 'lolita' to the younger boy and the two fae hovering across from him. The boy and the green girl, they were mocking - or was it teasing?- his perverseness.
His attitude towards certain things and people in general, reminded her very much of white roses. Like the white rose, he was childishly naive and curious, always wanting to know more about the grandeur of magic, despite being scared vertially stupid of it. And the so-called 'secrets' of his lovely little current crush, though there wasn't anything remotely secretive as far as she she knew. Sure he was charming up to a point, with a weird (but nice) disposition, that she didn't really think was that attractive. She never could understand why he tried so hard when it it usually ended in a very painful result. Maybe he was just a glutton for punishment? She shuddered at the thought of the implications, although he did bounce back quick. But that was one of his redeeming qualities which was probably one of the main contributors as to why he was still allowed around. She liked white roses.
The tiny musiclike giggles brought her attention to the two definately smallest persons in the room. They were as truly different as Heaven was to the Earth. The only thing that could be said as absolute fact for the pair was that the only thing they had in common was that they weren'thuman. The two as a whole, reminded her of the coral roses she had once seen in a gardening magazine. The older of the pair, with her batlike wings, vibrant greenish skin and hair, and overall sardonic attitude. She was quite enthusiastic, much more so than the younger one, very impulsive and hotheaded in her actions and thoughts.
She soon turned her eye to the other behind the first one, warm, living skin of real gold complimented bejeweled eyes, that had once come from an old sapphire earring without a mate, clothed in fine purple damask. Overall delicately fashioned, lovingly made by her creator. A living testament to the mysteries of an older time. She seemed gentler and more sensible than her companion, and often much wiser and collected in her thoughts as well. Somehow, she knew the vibrant duality of the singular orange rose suited the pair extremely nicely. She liked orange roses.
A squeak of inquiry caught her attention, turning down to the table, she smiled at the three roly-poly balls of black. Who were currently looking over her project with unabashed interest. That's just how they were, her little darlings, whether hiding in a pocket or cuddled together like little black eggs in her lap on a sunny afternoon. They never were far away from her, and even if they were with others they always came back to her first. Always letting her know that they simply, cared. Miniature Roses, yellow roses, that's who they were most like. She liked yellow roses too.
The nearby clinking and clattering of cultleries and plates made her crane her neck over to the tea cart that had just rolled in. Both its driver and server never were ones to talk much, even on a good day. Usually they were always silent, efficient and a smile rarely graced their faces (mostly when the other person made an appearance in the others vacinity, or secretly when she herself one-upped the master of the house). They were technically the "servants" and always seemed to be looking out for them acting rather like an even older pair of more experienced family members most of the time. The female was kind and sweet, extremely conservative on certain matters, almost like a peach rose.
Although sometimes in darker moments, she felt like the man was a sort-of psuedo-puppet master controlling the strings in the darkness of the shadows. For whom, or to what purpose, that she couldn't say for any certainty, also like the facade lilac roses had. Still, she liked lilac and peach roses.
In front of that she saw one of the youngest members of her family was being indulged off said cart, in one of her favorite pastimes, eating anything sweet, be it cake or sweets. She still found it a wonder how the child could inhale a full piece of cake, given her small size. Especially if it was the cherry kind. Although she had the stature of a nine year old, toted any one of a variety of fluffy stuffed animals about and had an astounding appetite for sugar-filled food. She was much older and wiser than she looked, just like the blooms of a new pink rose. She found that the little girl was always happy and cheerful (most of the time), even in the direst of situations. Yes, she liked pink roses as well.
She glanced at the next person, green-gold eyes every so often casting weary glimpses at both his sister, then the redhead and his little protoge huddled and whispering in their little corner. There sitting ramrod stiff in the back of the chair, reading a book (or pretending too, at least). But wearing his usual mask of indifference and calculative perceptiveness constantly, unless you counted the provoked yelling when she decided things were too quiet. He was covering his own inner self - she had realized this long ago, he was much kinder than he let on - from the others around him.
It was usually quite a surprise to others, when they found out, he was related to the small blonde next to him, after all they were also different. Truly night and day different. But then again, she didn't see it as much of a shock, it should have been perfectly obvious even to a blind man. He was always there for her, and sometimes babying her a little too much. It was a neat little mystery and reminded her of the silent mysterious blue rose, only darker.
Her pastel eyes drifted back to bouquet of flowers she was arranging, they were already quite neat and beautiful as they were in their narrow vase. Then to her slim hands, gently placing the pruner back on the rich polished mahogany table and leaned back to admire her handiwork. Ignoring the loud jeers of laughter and quiet running about of the most active members of the household, she realized something. Out of all the people she knew, he truly puzzled her the most. And rightfully so. He was probably the most enigmatic, even more so than the redhead, not that she'd admit it openly in public for various reasons. Ego being the main one, mostly his. He mostly stayed in the background, or at the very least tried not to be the center of attention. Not so easy though, for one of the most eligible bachelors in the freaking British Empire.
Even before she had come to this world, the blue rose had always been her most favorite.
But now she wasn't quite so sure she wanted to be quite so...exclusive with her new garden.
After all, there was such a colorful variety, how could she possibly choose just one? 'It makes me wonder just what color could suit someone as strange as I am?' She mused thoughtfully.
"Raven."
Her head snapped up quickly, in response to her name being called. Cain, the current topic in her even more currently befuddled mind, was in front of her, (' When did he get up... She wondered? As her eyes suddenly got wider.' But more importantly, where was he hiding those?') with another bouquet of flowers. He glanced half-heartedly over the narcissuses and jonquils that she had previously arranged.
"You can arrange these for the library, seeing that you've finished arranging those."
Before she could reply, bite back, or even open her mouth really, the bouquet was quietly placed in her arms. Her eyes widened when she saw the the scarlet-tipped petals of the lovely red roses. Her cheeks flushing crimson as a response, when she realized the ramifications of his statement feeling like she was on the punch line of someone's little cosmic joke.
'Oh well, that answers THAT question?!'
"But, I...uh..." But she didn't get a chance to finish. For he had turned quickly on his heel and had started walking back to his book, before taking back up his ever 'watchful' post. Raven gazed at the roses in her arms. There were twelve in total, all of them thornless. She smiled secretively, her cheeks getting just a tad darker too.
Yes, she loved roses, espacially those that were given to her.
Victorians were big on the symbolism of flowers, or Floriography for short. If you wanna know the inside meanings, I listed them below for ya all. Have fun;).
Jonquil - Love me; affection returned; desire; sympathy
Narcissus - Egotism; formality; stay as sweet as you are; love yourself too well; self-esteem
Blue Roses - Mystery; attaining the impossible
Peach Roses – Modesty; innocence
Yellow Roses – They say, "I care." Friendship; joy; gladness and freedom
Lilac/Lavender Roses - Enchantment; love at first sight; protection; maternal and paternal love
Orange/Coral Roses - Desire; passion; fascination; enthusiasm
Pink Roses - Perfect happiness; please believe me; sophistication; elegance
Red Roses - Do I really need to state the obvious here?
White Roses - Eternal Love; innocence; charm; secrecy and silence; and most of all purity
Thornless Roses - Love at first sight (eeee:D!!)
A Dozen Roses - There are dozens of ways I care about you ( EEEKKK:D!!)
AN: Just a little hint, if you haven't figured it out by now. Raven's favorite place to go is the library.