primary succession
She loves her city and its cement cradles, affluence in all its forms, and Oak Tree Town in every season. But most of all, she loves him.
Pretty boys are no strangers to Anthea, though the same could not be said for a vice-versa. She had always thought herself a pretty girl, never more, never less, perhaps a bit too plain for the city and its lifestyle—the reason she had salvaged in desperation to escape smothering parents and extravagance. Not that she was ungrateful, nor disdainful of the family's fortune; in fact, it proved to be of great convenience and allowed her finer pleasures, such as a closetful of cashmere sweaters and going about life aimlessly without work ever since she stopped pursuing further education.
For a while her parents had considered marrying her off to the son of some wealthy man, a consideration Anthea had refused despite her lack of a say in the matter. She liked boys, perhaps loved them even, though neither she nor they spared one another more than a handshake or a polite "Hello, how are you?" It wasn't within the guidelines of etiquette to fall in love at first glance (or to fall in love at all, a phenomenon she had always bared witness to at the eerily silent dinner table), though Anthea effortlessly managed to. Her mother called her fickle, unguarded; her father spat perverse.
She came across the flyer for Oak Tree Town on her way home from a solitary walk. A snow shower had interrupted her alone time, leaving her shivering to the bone, though curious nonetheless. The idea of a quaint village and farm life seemed utterly romantic, and Anthea marveled at the thought of a small town. Although she loved her city, her romanticism and the bitter cold of winter eventually won out. Winter was lonely and inspired in her an impulsivity that eluded reason, and she found herself showing her father the flyer.
And perhaps the winter diluted his reason, too, for the two forged an agreement. It left her father bitter, for Anthea was an only child and he hadn't any sons to pass on the family name. For the first time in many years he saw her smile. Her mother saw her off.
Anthea threw away her name and promised never to come home again.
I want to go home.
Annie cringes as the bovine languidly eats from her hand, drenching it in slobber. Eda hums contentedly beside her, spewing words of encouragement that Annie can't hear through her disgust. She doesn't exactly want to hear those words, either, as she searches for a good enough excuse to convince herself to abandon this venture and return to high-rise apartments and concrete. Yet she would also be returning to her father's affirmation of her place in their society, one so separate from her musings and motley desires.
"...you simply have to be gentle and open with them. That's enough about the animals; would you like some tea, Annie?"
"Yes," she replies. Eda begins making her way back to her small cottage just as Annie sputters, "E-excuse me, Miss Eda?"
"Yes, dear?"
She stops, unsure of what she meant to say or how to say it. "Thank you for having me."
"Of course. You know there's not need to be so proper." Annie's ears go red, but Eda's smile is no less kind. "What flavor do you prefer? I've always thought myself something of a tea connoisseur..." Eda laughs offhandedly, and Annie finds herself following in her stead.
She stays.
Raeger is a mass of slightly quirked lips and the personification of confidence and Annie's first thought is Mother would absolutely adore him.
They meet on her sixth day in Oak Tree, when Eda decides Annie has graduated from her impromptu farming school. Before moving here, Annie had never considered herself shy, though that was when her name spoke such volumes that her audience wouldn't hear her if she uttered a word. Back in the City, she needn't say much else other than "hello, it's nice to meet you—I'm sure you've met my parents—"
"Sorry, what was that?"
Blood rushes to Annie's face, infiltrating the tips of her ears, his hand suddenly retracted from between them like she were some sort of heretic. His eyebrows are a little furrowed and his lips slightly parted, but he's leaning toward her expectantly. For a second too long she's rendered speechless.
"Sorry. I meant to say—I'm Annie."
He smiles—charismatic, pearly white, and almost like the boys she used to love but never knew, the kind who looked her in the eye only after hearing her father's name—and she says no more.
this is very much still a work in progress, but i wanted to get it out there. the whole rich/naive-city-girl-turned-farmer is super overdone in HM fanfic, but i couldn't help myself.
primary succession is an ecological phenomenon that describes the creation of an ecosystem from essentially nothing.