Wildflowers

Note: Did Ash do people things right? She doesn't know. She thinks she did. She gets a gold sticker for trying.

On a side note, art is being added to the tumblr account made for this connected universe, crashed-into-you! For example, all seven Dakotaraptors will be completed very soon, and several have already been uploaded for viewing. Headcanons are slowly being added as well. Not too much can be revealed as of yet, for obvious reasons, but I shall be adding Crash to my profile here, so things shall be moving along fairly soon!

When Crash is uploaded, please give it a read!

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The rains had come early this spring. It melted most of the icy reservoirs that had clung stubbornly to the mountains over the winter, giving way to a lush growth of new and thriving plant life.

The cherry blossoms especially were blooming beautifully this year.

Occasionally, he'd catch sight of pretty pink petals dancing in the wind when they were surveying the valleys and forests. Despite all the horror that has been seen and committed on Yamatai, Allen wasn't one to hold back on admitting that there was some kind of savage and quiet beauty on the island. There were small niches that could be spent in silent reverence that had not yet seen the violence and bloodshed. There were still little places of peace scattered about that were still pure enough to enjoy and forget about all the terror, even if only for a time.

"What are you doing?"

Ash was watching him with open curiousity, toting her usual fare of weapons: her bow and quiver of arrows, her knives, a pistol, and an extremely outdated rifle—those were her standards and her words, not his.

To him, the rifle was several decades more advanced than what he's seen from his time period, even if he's only glimpsed them from a distance and for scant moments in the past. Ash, in retrospect, complained about them. When he asked what she expected or wanted on an island that had hosted a war decades before she was even born, she would whine a little about how she couldn't remember, but that the weapons she wanted were closer to her generation.

If she could only remember which generation that was, exactly.

"You do realize that you're also using one of the earliest and oldest weapon known to humankind, besides the club and the spear, right?"

It became a muddled, grumbling event from her after that, which eventually devolved into sullen silence, and eventually that petered out into grudging acknowledgement that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

It took her a while to come to the final stages, but it was worth it in the end.

Sometimes.

Ash canted her head to the side a little as she waited for him to answer and he shook his thoughts away, clearing his throat.

"Nothing important, I just haven't really stopped to appreciate the view in such a long while."

"What view?"

"The flowers."

"The…flowers," she repeated, ticking a brow upwards while her lips thinned out into a firm line. She stole a glance around them, at the wildflowers that were blooming brightly amongst the green foliage and the churning river not that far from where they stood. "What about the flowers, exactly?"

"We don't get to see them very often. The storms usually destroy any chance for them to grow."

Ash's expression morphed from curiousity to that of pure befuddlement. "I…never thought of you as a flower-lovin' kind of guy."

"I'm not, not really. I'm only noticing them a bit more than usual because of the lack of storms and well, it is springtime." He smiled a bit, glancing over at the thriving flora. "I guess I never took the time to properly notice until now."

It took him the better part of five years to actually stop to do so, now that he's actually thought about it. The revelation both stunned and saddened him, the longer he stared at the blooming flowering plants surrounding them. Ash, he found when he turned to look back at her again, was looking around them as well. Her expression was painted in open confusion and discomfort.

She shifted the sling of her rifle more securely in her grip, as though it brought her a sense of comfort and familiarity, and perhaps it did. Even now, she still found a kind of security in something more acquainted to her, a symbol of a life she had grown used to versus the one she has only just began to notice and still was trying to figure out from afar.

Ash shifted her weight from one leg to the other, casting a cursory glance over her shoulder. "We shouldn't linger here too much longer. There's still plenty of Solarii around and I honestly don't feel like getting shot at today."

Allen sighed, disliking that he had to admit that she was partly right. He wished she could enjoy the little things a bit more freely, but these kinds of things couldn't be forced with Ash. Allen already knew that much about her. It took her time to warm up to things. Perhaps in time, she could eventually learn to appreciate the small wonders that Yamatai had to offer, however minute they were. They were small and sparing things, and rarities to boot, and even though he also knew how she hated this island…he also knew she had grown to appreciate other small rarities that still made her smile, even if she didn't admit to it or not.

Allen started to follow Ash, but paused for one last look at the field they were leaving.

They were only flowers, of course, they weren't precious salvage or even the strange begotten ship that they had scavenged years ago, gifted to them by a benevolent and mysterious benefactor. But small wonders such as this shouldn't be overlooked or ignored. It was a wonder anything beautiful could ever grow naturally on the island, especially with all the violence, bloodshed, and tempestuous storms that plagued it.

Things like this must be so scarce that even Ash has overlooked them as unimportant and not worth her time to notice, even if only for a moment. Not unless they were pointed out to her, that was.

He found it a little sad in that moment, as he turned to follow her once again, as they traipsed along a path parallel to the roaring river. They had a long ways to go before they got back home and night would be upon them soon enough.

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"What are you doing?"

Ash froze, tightness lining her shoulders and back, and her tail instantly puffed up until all the fur was standing on end. She didn't turn to face him, but she had her pack in her hands and lap, and she was hunched over it on the couch, trying and failing to hide it from sight. Allen waited with a frown slowly tugging his lips downward the longer she went without answering.

After nearly a solid thirty seconds, she finally let all the tension slump out of her frame as she turned around. One hand was clenching the shoulder strap tightly and the other was buried deep in the pack itself. She looked rather sullen at being interrupted, shifting her eyes away from him to the hand in her pack.

"You are extremely nosy at extremely inopportune moments sometimes, you know that?"

She sighed, easing the pack open a little more carefully than he thought necessary, until he saw why.

"You…you brought home the flowers from the river?"

Ash nodded mutely, her lips pursing tightly. She only met his gaze for a split second, but it was enough for him and he was surprised at what was left unsaid on her behalf.

She was embarrassed.

He's never quite seen her look quite like this, except in very rare moments over the last few years. In fact, the last time he's seen her look this abashed, it was when she had been missing for a week in the sea caves and he had to go find her…

Allen found himself smiling as he took a seat beside her, taking care to note just how she met his gaze a little more readily the second time around. He reached for the flowers still in Ash's tender grip, careful not to disturb the pale blue petals too much as he transferred them to his hands.

"You…liked them, for some reason. I don't normally bother with them, they don't have any value when it comes to medicinal or consuming purposes. They're just flowers, but…" She hesitated. "You liked them. They don't do much, except look pretty."

"You have a very strange habit for noticing certain things when it pertains to my behalf," he remarked lightly, to which she shrugged and mumbled something incomprehensible. It brought out another smile from him. "It's not a bad thing. It's just something I've noticed you do."

"Isn't getting little things for others like this supposed to be a good thing? Or something?" She mumbled back. Was it him, or were her cheeks just a bit pinker? That was actually kind of…cute. She couldn't normally pull off cute.

Carefully, he plucked a single flower from the bunch and nestled it beside one of her ears and into her hair. She froze, her breath hitching fiercely in her throat at the contact and she glanced up at him with suddenly wide eyes.

"What—"

"Do you know what kind of flower this is?" He pressed and she cut herself short, lips quirking a bit.

"I…I don't…no. No, I don't."

"Forget-me-nots."

"Oh." She stared a little more carefully at the blue petals with the pale yellow stars, not quite frowning any longer. "I still didn't have you pegged as a flower guy."

"I'm not, not really. I just...happen to know a thing or two about different flowers."

"Yeah, that's not suspicious at all. Dare I ask how?"

"I'd rather not say."

"…I'm going to guess…Cross?"

"I'd really rather not say." He pressed more adamantly and she shrugged in surrender.

"Okay, then…that must mean I'm right."

He sighed, choosing to ignore the faintly amused if very brief smirk that crossed her features.

"You know, I just realized something. For once, I'm the one telling you something you know nothing about. I think I should savour this for a moment longer." He grinned openly at her and she rolled her eyes. Ah, yes. There it was. There was the familiar humour and annoyance he was so acquainted with.

"Oh, my god, get on with it. You went to the trouble of telling me the name of these things. Why?"

"There's meanings and symbolisms with flowers. I'm a little surprised to come across a flower here that I'd normally see in Europe, but it doesn't degrade it in any way."

"Okay, I'll bite. What's it mean?"

He chuckled softly as he reached over to adjust the flower in her hair. She grew stiff all over again, and he saw in her eyes she was fighting the urge to squirm. She wasn't a stranger to being touched by him at this stage, but there were times she was still seemingly adjusting. He offered her another smile, this one of comfort and encouragement. Slowly, the uneasiness leaked from her frame, and she let him fix the flower more securely.

"It has several, actually." He started as he gently pulled a strand of hair down to pin the flower a little more securely in place. "As the name suggests, it's meant to be a symbol to the recipient that they won't be forgotten by the giver. In other instances, it could represent the connections between two people, the faith they have in one another."

She raised a brow and her lips quirked at him. She didn't need to say anything for him to get the message, or to read the sparking amusement glittering in her eyes.

"Is there anything else?"

"One more," he conceded with a nod, taking in a slow breathe. "Love. There are several of flowers that represent it as well, but…they represent different facets of love, like roses. Forget-me-nots represent true love. At least, that's what it's come to symbolize."

He let his hand drop as he noticed how focused her mismatched stare was on him.

"That," she began after a very lengthy pause, leaning back. "That is very cheesy."

Allen stared at her a moment longer before he laughed. "Perhaps. But, to some people, they take that symbolism seriously. Obviously, you're not one of those people."

"Are you?"

"No," he admitted with a chuckle. "No, I'm not. Putting all faith and communication in some secret language of exchanging flowers to represent how to express one's self, it just doesn't come across as meaningful. Not to me, anyway. And if you wished to tell me something, I know you'd tell me, even if it isn't in words. You have your own way of doing it, and I have mine."

Another smile and this time, she met him halfway with one of her own, however small and short-lived it was. She was looking at the flowers in his hand. He had nearly forgotten he still had them when she took them back, gentle as ever as she ran a thumb over the delicate pale blue petals. She stood, motioning for him to wait a moment as she trotted out of sight into one of the storage rooms. She came back with a little container, the flowers deposited inside. She set it onto the battered coffee table before collapsing back onto the couch beside him, her gaze still locked on the flowers.

She let her head rest on his shoulder, not saying anything at first, and he in return let the silence continue. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her in closer. It was a while before either of them spoke again.

"It doesn't look bad in here. It's…pretty," she said quietly after a time. "They don't smell half bad, either."

Oh, that was right. Sometimes he forgot just how preternatural Ash's nose was in comparison to his. She often times didn't broadcast her hypersensitive senses out loud, and not all that often, especially when it wasn't necessary. She was more or less silent on the subject, except when it mattered in bringing him into the fold—sight, sound, smell, even taste or touch had its moments of importance.

He found his lips curling into another small smile.

He didn't put much merit into using flowers to express his affection, but if someone else found comfort in it, then all the more power to them.

They didn't need the flowers to communicate. Ash had found her own manner of doing so, with other objects when her words failed her. She handcrafted most of her gifts and baubles, or used preexisting materials to further accentuate a piece she had decided to work on. He found it to be more valuable and meaningful, but this was actually a nice touch to spice things up a bit.

Allen also found it a bit amusing that she got him flowers. In most cases, it would have been expected to be the other way around. Ash certainly didn't conform to regular norms and Allen found he didn't mind so much. He wouldn't have expected anything less of her.