Closed Floral Friendship

[Connor Holland]

Connor just didn't feel right anywhere in the castle. Even at the best of times he was always looking over his shoulder, waiting for his cousin's bodyguard to lunge. Surely it was just a matter of time before she came for him. The way she had attacked Eric... Connor still had nightmares about it. Outside the castle though... outside, Connor felt more confident. Being on the grass reminded him of playing rugby, reminded him he could take a hit if he really needed to, and with the forest and gardens and pitch around, there were plenty of places to run and hide if that became necessary. So whenever the weather was good enough, Connor had been taking to the outdoors, trying his hardest to keep away from absolutely everyone. Today he had decided to explore the garden. He loved the spring flowers, and now that he had joined the gardening club, Connor felt that he really should be learning about them. He still kept his head down as he wandered the garden paths, occasionally stopping to smell the sweeter flowers. Finally, he felt... almost relaxed, for the first time in forever.

 

[Poppy Perkins]

Poppy felt like she was holding her breath all day as she stepped outside. She liked school well enough but it wasn't like she had really made any friends yet and everywhere she turned felt unfamiliar and overwhelming all the time. It was her first time being away from home and she hated to admit it, but she was homesick. She was eleven. She wasn't a baby anymore, she could handle this just like everyone else! But it was hard when she felt so alone. Poppy felt tears start to fall down her face and she walked even faster. "Quit it." She scolded herself. "There's no reason to cry." She said and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

Poppy finally started to relax when she reached the garden, it was one of the only places that she could pretend she was still a home. The greenhouse was close but it had too many unusual magical plants, but here among the flowers was much better. She took her favorite spot, a bench in front of a particularly beautiful hydrangea bush, and pulled out a book of poems. She opened the book where she had last left off and started to read aloud. "I wandered lonely as a cloud, That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils..."

 

[Connor Holland]

The undisturbed serenity of the garden had Connor feeling actually at peace for the first time in a long time. Or... he thought it was undisturbed. Connor tensed at the sound of another person nearby, peering through the bushes in that direction nervously. Was it someone his age or an older student? Someone he knew or a stranger? A group of people or someone by themself? He sneaked down the path and peered more closely through the bushes, relieved to see a girl around his age by herself. He didn't recognise the girl, but he was close enough now to realise she was reading poetry. To... herself? It was pretty, and encouraged Connor to stop hiding, hoping he might make a new friend. Popping his face around the bush properly, Connor spoke up, though his voice was still almost soft enough to miss. "Did you write that?" He asked quietly.

 

[Poppy Perkins]

Poppy stopped reading and looked up suddenly at the sound of someone else in the garden. She saw a boy with wavy blonde hair that seemed to be about her age. He looked at her curiously and she realized he had asked her a question. “The poem? Oh no, I’m afraid I don’t have a way with words. At least in the poetic sense. But I am good at making up stories. I like to think that everything has a story to go along with it.” she said (too much information) and frowned.

Poppy looked back towards the bush and realized what kind of sight he walked into. She had been reading out loud to herself, not something that would be considered particularly normal she realized. “I come here sometimes to talk to the plants.” she blurted out, and felt herself turn as red as her hair. “I mean, I’ve read that it's good to talk to plants and it helps them grow. My father studies plants and says it’s because of the carbon dioxide that you breathe out that helps the plants, not the words. But I figure it doesn’t hurt if the words are pretty, right?” She tried to explain, to make what she was doing seem less odd. She was pretty sure it didn’t work.