Disclaimer: I don't own Battle B-daman
Another oneshot…. I seem to be posting a lot of these old ones up…. This one doesn't focus on pairings…. just on perfume.
Competition!!!!!!!
Kay ppls, for my fic 'Diamond in the Rough' I need a OC or self-insert. Note that this self-insert will get to briefly interact with main characters but will be killed off very quickly. So if you want to be in it, or have your character in it please answer this question.
What does Rosemary symbolise?
Please reply, I will be taking the first answer.
Perfume
The newly opened mall was a haven to many of the b-da players who lived in the smaller towns like Windtoon, Cowtoon and such. It was about time, many had said. Most of the big towns had them so we should too, they said. And after many months of careful planning and construction work the wish had been fulfilled…. sort of.
They hadn't exactly placed a mall in every single town; they simply decided to build one in a local tourist destination…and seeing that some of the world's best b-da players resided in the newly introduced tourist attraction…Cowtoon had been the obvious choice.
The mall wasn't particularly big but it seemed gigantic to the likes of people who had only ever shopped in local marketplaces.
There where not many different shops either, there were the usual clothes, shoes, accessories boutiques, the sporting goods, electronics, furniture, the food court, the pharmacy and of course a local B-da Parts and Repairs shop.
Now if you thought about it logically you would automatically assume a 15-year-old female b-da player's shop would be the clothes boutiques or the B-da shops.
And if you thought about it logically and assumed the above, you would be wrong. Dead wrong.
For fifteen-year-old Leanne's favourite shop wasn't a designer clothes shop, or the famous cat café she used to work at or even the B-da Parts shop that her friend Bull Borgine worked at. No, her favourite part of all was that quaint little pharmacy tucked in the corner, completely covered by the flashy lights of the sports store next to it.
Why? Simply because perfume was sold there.
Now you would nod your head in understanding. Of course a young teenage girl would like perfume, it covered up sweaty smells and enticed young men and such.
But again you would be wrong. Leanne Vincent did not like perfume because it seduced potential boyfriends, she didn't like it because of the beautifully designed bottles or because of the famous Virgin fragrance which her close friend, Marilyn an international singer and model had been the face of.
Leanne Vincent had never particularly wanted a boyfriend, well maybe she did long to get married and have kids someday but she didn't go chasing after every boy that passed by. She didn't like the bottles either, Leanne was a simple girl; she had no patience for frills, laces and exquisite containers. And for the Virgin fragrance? She had always laughed at the irony between the name and Marilyn…as far as she was concerned Marilyn was one of the furthest thing you could get from a virgin not counting prostitutes and such. That she knew from the long conversations she had with her when they had time for a little girl-chat.
No, what Leanne really liked about it was the fact that a fragrance could represent a person. It wasn't like clothing…that you could change depending on your mood and figure. Each fragrance could be applied onto anyone…there was no unstylish or ugly scent since everyone had unique tastes. And even if everyone was wearing one perfume it always was different with every single person, and some scents couldn't be mimicked.
Mei had never worn perfume. She had always said it wasn't suitable when she was going to be tired and sweaty by the end of a hard day of work but nonetheless she had a scent. Mei always smelled of freshly baked bread, a nice homely smell that had always comforted Leanne.
Bull had always smelled of burning oil. While this wasn't the most pleasant of smells it suited him she had decided. Maybe it was all the late nights lit by candlelight repairing b-daman or his obsession with taking apart mechanical devices. Either way she had gotten used to it and had grown to like it; it represented stability something Leanne had always appreciated in her life.
Her friend Carat always smelled of roses. Carat had always liked the smell, and Leanne while not being a rose fan had agreed that it suited Carat. Carat was a princess in Leanne's mind, beautiful in a traditional way, kind underneath the whole spoiled rich girl exterior and rather venomous when in a bad mood, like the delicate petals of a rose with thorns extended.
Her brother Gray, had always smelled of rain, damp and refreshning. She knew from the many times she had snuggled against him for comfort. She had always wondered how long you would have to spend practicing out in a storm to aquire that scent.
But she herself had never really known what scent she was. So three months ago while snuggling into her boyfriend Wen's grasp while watching the sunset on the beach, she risked ruining a perfectly romantic moment with a simple question that had often been the cause of many break ups among couples.
What do you like best about me? She had said. She knew what she expected, a cheesy pick up line like the way your eyes glitter like jewels in the sun or your porcelain skin but the reply she got was far better than she had ever hoped for.
You smell like the sea. She had finally realised her scent. And she had smiled and kissed him. It suited her she decided, Gray was like rain; she was the ocean, and no matter how different they were, they were always connected to each other.
So a month later after they had broken up because things weren't quite working out for them. And that day when she was sitting on her bed reading her latest novel when Gray had given her the postcard.
On it was a picture of a beach, with the sparkling sea and covering a corner of the postcard was a single sprig of rosemary.
It was from Wen, as the rough handwriting at the top indicated. She expected a greeting, maybe a 'hope everything's good back there' or even a 'maybe we could see each other sometime.'
Miss your smell. Wen.
She smiled.