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May. 21st, 2011 10:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
boy_druidCopied from here.
It wasn't difficult to grow flowers in her apartment, something which Lorelei greatly enjoyed; since she occupied a corner of the building she had more windows than most, giving her an excuse to almost never turn on an artificial light before sunset. It also enabled her to keep her favorite flowers--anemone coronaria--which she was currently planting in a window-box, outside near the sidewalk. Anyplace where she could spill dirt and it meant she didn't have to clean was a really good spot to her, and so she was sitting on the edge of a raised planter outside her building with a box, about a dozen red and white poppy-like flowers, and gardening supplies. Luckily anything grown in a window box didn't require much in the way of maintenance, and she hummed to herself under her breath, generally just enjoying the sun. She didn't mind getting dirt of her hands, and there was certainly quite a bit of that, and a smear of soil on her cheek from where she'd rubbed it absently.
It's a good day for being out, and down the street comes a smallish figure in slightly eccentric clothes, carrying a canvas bag of the kind usually used for groceries. It's pretty full, but it's all loaves of bread. Cavan admires the planting as he approaches, and then slows as he recognizes that subtle tingle at the edge of his senses.
She's almost done with breaking up the root clusters to plant them, arranging the blooms in no particular order, just a spray of variegated red, white, and green. Lorelei is pretty easy to notice as she's the only one out there; she waves at Cavan when he comes close enough for her to recognize the clothes, then the figure.
She would notice the clothes first. It's a completely different outfit, yet manages to be just as eccentrically old-fashioned. He beams, and eyes her work. "Beautiful! Will they be somewhere outside?"
She's a girl; what did he expect?
"Yeah, they'll be outside one of my windows," she says. "I always loved these flowers, since I was little. They look like poppies."
"Oh good!" He's so terribly earnest in the way he says it, and he probably doesn't realize it makes him sound like the host of a children's show. Or flaming. "They're bright, so they might attract bees, and they're in such terrible trouble now, you know."
Her first thought is really television host, because it's not the same flamboyant phrasing as would be required for the alternative. She still sets it aside and brushes her hands off on her jeans for a minute; she'll wash those later.
"They are. But yeah, these should be colorful if nothing else; that's the purpose, really."
"If I had the space, I'd be planting for bees..." He crouches a little to gently stroke the flowers. "Oh, ah... d'ye like bread?"
She chuckles. "I live on the third floor. But I have about nine window boxes full of these," she explains. "And...yeah? Why, did you get too much?"
She nods to that bag he's carrying, watching him cup the flower petals.
"I have houseplants, and I open the windows, but there's no space for a box." He sighs wistfully, but it's more than a window box he's thinking of.
"Oh, I make it. Th' Food Bank and the like won't take it though. They said my kitchen needs to be inspected and certified." The modern world is so complicated.
"Well, yeah. They have to be careful with people they feed. But yeah, I like it."
"Regulations..." He sighs. "I'll have to look into it. My kitchen's clean and I make more than I can eat... ye wouldn't be afraid to take some?" He fixes her with hopeful, brown, puppy-dog eyes that are just a little bigger because of the glasses.
"Nah, I wouldn't be," she chuckles. She might use it to feed ducks, but she's usually more trusting than not. And she can't imagine why anyone would want to kill her with bread, anyway. Lorelei looks between Cavan and the window-box setup; she has to have two hands to carry everything now, since she can't load it into the box with the flowers.
"I can take some, if you don't mind coming up with me. Or you don't mind me making two trips, either way," she says.
If she uses Cavan's bread to feed ducks, it would be a terrible waste. He's a very good baker.
"Oh! Would ye like help carrying things? I didn't mean to interrupt ye..."
She shakes her head. "It's okay, this is the last box. I just need both hands for this stuff," she explains. "I promise it's not that far of a walk."
"I walk everywhere." He shrugs. Except when he takes the bus. One of these days, he should probably learn to drive a car...
Lorelei chuckles, standing up and gathering her things, looping her keyring around her finger. "Same. But sometimes I bike. It's just up this way," she says, nodding to the door and through to the stairs. They're wide and well-lit, facing windows on each landing.
He follows her up with his bag, although he'll carry any other odds and ends like tools or leftover potting soil, as long as he can keep that away from the bread. "I don't have one, but maybe I should."
She's practical about carrying things; tools go in the dirt bag, since it's not like they won't end up in it sometime or other.
"They're pretty inexpensive. And save time on cross-town trips."
Since she's carrying the heavier stuff, he takes in his surroundings as they go up. This place is nicer than his own building, but he's settled in now. "I'll look into it... have to save up." Ah, the woes of a poor college student. Or at least an immortal who likes to live off his current means instead of any savings he may have built up over time.
"Can't hurt." Once they're at her door, she has to unlock it first, and sets what she's carrying down on the floor where it will be more or less out of the way. "Sorry about that. I don't usually get visitors."
"I wasn't meaning to intrude..." He looks apologetic, and he'll try to scoop up at least some of what she's put down while she gets the door open. He's just being chivalrous.
"You're okay. Just warning you if it's messy," she says, stepping in and letting him follow.
"I don't mind." He chirps cheerfully, following her in and looking around for a good place to set things down. The bag of bread should go on the counter, but he'll put the rest beside wherever she puts the flowers.
"Oh, you can put that down anywhere you want," she says, putting the box down on a coffee table that generally also functions as desk and catch-all, judging by the books and notebook stacked on it.
"You have bigger windows." He says admiringly, taking it all in with a mild smile. The way he sets things down is a little more carefully and less haphazardly than her style, though.
"Yeah, I like to see the outdoors." She's hardly unkempt, but she can't really be neat all the time with her setup; it'd drive her crazy.
"Oh, so do I, but I have to go outside for it." He grins sheepishly. "I should live vicariously through your window box."
She'd be impressed by his place, or possibly worried. He's used to living like a monk.
She chuckles. "I'd be kinda worried about you if you could do that for real," she says.
"Perhaps there's a community garden or something. I've only a few houseplants, now." He sighs wistfully. "Oh! Yes, bread. If ye know anybody else ye could give some to...?"
"I only know a couple people around here real well, but yeah, I could take some and pass it out," she says. "If you're trying to get rid of it."
"At least until I can donate it to someplace specific." He shrugs, pulling out three saran-wrapped loaves. The aroma is inviting, a honeyish home-baking smell. "I could pass it round the library staff, too."
"Smells good at least," she compliments, breathing in the honey scent. "You're welcome to stay a while, if you want to?"
"There's honey baked in. D'ye like honey?" He smiles, but looks just a little surprised. "I... if ye like. I wasn't meaning to impose or anything..."
"Yeah, I actually like honey better than sugar," she says. "So it's cool. And I like having company."
"Do ye now? I'll remember that..." Cavan is a big fan of honey. He looks both delighted and slightly awkward though. "What did ye want to do?"
"Um. Talking seems to work pretty well at first, unless you want to run screaming at my interior decor or something... Which I hope you don't."
It might be a little eclectic--the cross bookends and black rooster figure (it keeps her keys and change) are skirting unusual. At least she's aware of it.
He turns his head to make an obvious sweep of the room, grinning a little. "It looks fine to me. I like the rooster." Just because his own living space is spartan in the extreme doesn't mean he can't appreciate eclectic clutter.
"It's....yeah," she says, dropping her keys into the hollow box it makes. She rubs the back of her neck lightly, looking at it and then Cavan with a crooked grin. "There's a story to that thing."
"I love stories!" He grins, almost childishly enthusiastic. "The world is made of stories." He's watching her expectantly now.
"It's supposed to be somethin' like a voodoo symbol. I didn't much get into the religion part of it, but I liked the idea of the loa. One of them is Mama Bridgitte, and she guards graves. I just sort of liked the idea, I guess."
"Oh! Yes, I'm familiar with some of that. Reliable, unbiased information is hard to come by, though." He nods, because he studies every religion he can find. "Mama Bridgette and Baron Samedi are the two biggest figures... or at least the two most popular."
"Yeah. They're the top two of the Ghede Loa, the death ones. It was just somethin' that struck me as comforting."
"But you're not a practitioner?" His head tilts slightly, but he's still wearing a mild smile and a calmly curious expression.
She shakes her head. "Nah. I heard a bit about it in New Orleans, and read some books to get a better idea 'fore I got too enamored of it, but I was raised Episcopalian. I don't really go to church much anymore."
"There's nothing wrong with exploring other beliefs." He means that, whole-heartedly.
"Yeah. That's what my daddy always said, but churches can be funny 'bout that. But I suppose it sort of made me feel better about moving away from my family."
He gives a mild, thoughtful nod. "Most churches don't encourage that, no... is your family religious?"
"My family's...sort of religious. My daddy is, mom's not at all. I go pretty much every week when I can manage it, but I'm still not exactly sure where I stand."
"I'm never certain exactly what people mean when they say somebody's religious." He perches on a chair, and watches her with a calm but serious expression that seems a little too old, on his face. "Not that I mean to insult any of your family's behavior, but it seems sometimes what people mean is just that they go through the motions on a strict and frequent basis..."
"I believe there is something bigger governing our universe. I don't know what it is...but I have a hard time in sayin' that it's entirely as this one book says it is, and nothing else even comes close to to truth."
It wasn't difficult to grow flowers in her apartment, something which Lorelei greatly enjoyed; since she occupied a corner of the building she had more windows than most, giving her an excuse to almost never turn on an artificial light before sunset. It also enabled her to keep her favorite flowers--anemone coronaria--which she was currently planting in a window-box, outside near the sidewalk. Anyplace where she could spill dirt and it meant she didn't have to clean was a really good spot to her, and so she was sitting on the edge of a raised planter outside her building with a box, about a dozen red and white poppy-like flowers, and gardening supplies. Luckily anything grown in a window box didn't require much in the way of maintenance, and she hummed to herself under her breath, generally just enjoying the sun. She didn't mind getting dirt of her hands, and there was certainly quite a bit of that, and a smear of soil on her cheek from where she'd rubbed it absently.
It's a good day for being out, and down the street comes a smallish figure in slightly eccentric clothes, carrying a canvas bag of the kind usually used for groceries. It's pretty full, but it's all loaves of bread. Cavan admires the planting as he approaches, and then slows as he recognizes that subtle tingle at the edge of his senses.
She's almost done with breaking up the root clusters to plant them, arranging the blooms in no particular order, just a spray of variegated red, white, and green. Lorelei is pretty easy to notice as she's the only one out there; she waves at Cavan when he comes close enough for her to recognize the clothes, then the figure.
She would notice the clothes first. It's a completely different outfit, yet manages to be just as eccentrically old-fashioned. He beams, and eyes her work. "Beautiful! Will they be somewhere outside?"
She's a girl; what did he expect?
"Yeah, they'll be outside one of my windows," she says. "I always loved these flowers, since I was little. They look like poppies."
"Oh good!" He's so terribly earnest in the way he says it, and he probably doesn't realize it makes him sound like the host of a children's show. Or flaming. "They're bright, so they might attract bees, and they're in such terrible trouble now, you know."
Her first thought is really television host, because it's not the same flamboyant phrasing as would be required for the alternative. She still sets it aside and brushes her hands off on her jeans for a minute; she'll wash those later.
"They are. But yeah, these should be colorful if nothing else; that's the purpose, really."
"If I had the space, I'd be planting for bees..." He crouches a little to gently stroke the flowers. "Oh, ah... d'ye like bread?"
She chuckles. "I live on the third floor. But I have about nine window boxes full of these," she explains. "And...yeah? Why, did you get too much?"
She nods to that bag he's carrying, watching him cup the flower petals.
"I have houseplants, and I open the windows, but there's no space for a box." He sighs wistfully, but it's more than a window box he's thinking of.
"Oh, I make it. Th' Food Bank and the like won't take it though. They said my kitchen needs to be inspected and certified." The modern world is so complicated.
"Well, yeah. They have to be careful with people they feed. But yeah, I like it."
"Regulations..." He sighs. "I'll have to look into it. My kitchen's clean and I make more than I can eat... ye wouldn't be afraid to take some?" He fixes her with hopeful, brown, puppy-dog eyes that are just a little bigger because of the glasses.
"Nah, I wouldn't be," she chuckles. She might use it to feed ducks, but she's usually more trusting than not. And she can't imagine why anyone would want to kill her with bread, anyway. Lorelei looks between Cavan and the window-box setup; she has to have two hands to carry everything now, since she can't load it into the box with the flowers.
"I can take some, if you don't mind coming up with me. Or you don't mind me making two trips, either way," she says.
If she uses Cavan's bread to feed ducks, it would be a terrible waste. He's a very good baker.
"Oh! Would ye like help carrying things? I didn't mean to interrupt ye..."
She shakes her head. "It's okay, this is the last box. I just need both hands for this stuff," she explains. "I promise it's not that far of a walk."
"I walk everywhere." He shrugs. Except when he takes the bus. One of these days, he should probably learn to drive a car...
Lorelei chuckles, standing up and gathering her things, looping her keyring around her finger. "Same. But sometimes I bike. It's just up this way," she says, nodding to the door and through to the stairs. They're wide and well-lit, facing windows on each landing.
He follows her up with his bag, although he'll carry any other odds and ends like tools or leftover potting soil, as long as he can keep that away from the bread. "I don't have one, but maybe I should."
She's practical about carrying things; tools go in the dirt bag, since it's not like they won't end up in it sometime or other.
"They're pretty inexpensive. And save time on cross-town trips."
Since she's carrying the heavier stuff, he takes in his surroundings as they go up. This place is nicer than his own building, but he's settled in now. "I'll look into it... have to save up." Ah, the woes of a poor college student. Or at least an immortal who likes to live off his current means instead of any savings he may have built up over time.
"Can't hurt." Once they're at her door, she has to unlock it first, and sets what she's carrying down on the floor where it will be more or less out of the way. "Sorry about that. I don't usually get visitors."
"I wasn't meaning to intrude..." He looks apologetic, and he'll try to scoop up at least some of what she's put down while she gets the door open. He's just being chivalrous.
"You're okay. Just warning you if it's messy," she says, stepping in and letting him follow.
"I don't mind." He chirps cheerfully, following her in and looking around for a good place to set things down. The bag of bread should go on the counter, but he'll put the rest beside wherever she puts the flowers.
"Oh, you can put that down anywhere you want," she says, putting the box down on a coffee table that generally also functions as desk and catch-all, judging by the books and notebook stacked on it.
"You have bigger windows." He says admiringly, taking it all in with a mild smile. The way he sets things down is a little more carefully and less haphazardly than her style, though.
"Yeah, I like to see the outdoors." She's hardly unkempt, but she can't really be neat all the time with her setup; it'd drive her crazy.
"Oh, so do I, but I have to go outside for it." He grins sheepishly. "I should live vicariously through your window box."
She'd be impressed by his place, or possibly worried. He's used to living like a monk.
She chuckles. "I'd be kinda worried about you if you could do that for real," she says.
"Perhaps there's a community garden or something. I've only a few houseplants, now." He sighs wistfully. "Oh! Yes, bread. If ye know anybody else ye could give some to...?"
"I only know a couple people around here real well, but yeah, I could take some and pass it out," she says. "If you're trying to get rid of it."
"At least until I can donate it to someplace specific." He shrugs, pulling out three saran-wrapped loaves. The aroma is inviting, a honeyish home-baking smell. "I could pass it round the library staff, too."
"Smells good at least," she compliments, breathing in the honey scent. "You're welcome to stay a while, if you want to?"
"There's honey baked in. D'ye like honey?" He smiles, but looks just a little surprised. "I... if ye like. I wasn't meaning to impose or anything..."
"Yeah, I actually like honey better than sugar," she says. "So it's cool. And I like having company."
"Do ye now? I'll remember that..." Cavan is a big fan of honey. He looks both delighted and slightly awkward though. "What did ye want to do?"
"Um. Talking seems to work pretty well at first, unless you want to run screaming at my interior decor or something... Which I hope you don't."
It might be a little eclectic--the cross bookends and black rooster figure (it keeps her keys and change) are skirting unusual. At least she's aware of it.
He turns his head to make an obvious sweep of the room, grinning a little. "It looks fine to me. I like the rooster." Just because his own living space is spartan in the extreme doesn't mean he can't appreciate eclectic clutter.
"It's....yeah," she says, dropping her keys into the hollow box it makes. She rubs the back of her neck lightly, looking at it and then Cavan with a crooked grin. "There's a story to that thing."
"I love stories!" He grins, almost childishly enthusiastic. "The world is made of stories." He's watching her expectantly now.
"It's supposed to be somethin' like a voodoo symbol. I didn't much get into the religion part of it, but I liked the idea of the loa. One of them is Mama Bridgitte, and she guards graves. I just sort of liked the idea, I guess."
"Oh! Yes, I'm familiar with some of that. Reliable, unbiased information is hard to come by, though." He nods, because he studies every religion he can find. "Mama Bridgette and Baron Samedi are the two biggest figures... or at least the two most popular."
"Yeah. They're the top two of the Ghede Loa, the death ones. It was just somethin' that struck me as comforting."
"But you're not a practitioner?" His head tilts slightly, but he's still wearing a mild smile and a calmly curious expression.
She shakes her head. "Nah. I heard a bit about it in New Orleans, and read some books to get a better idea 'fore I got too enamored of it, but I was raised Episcopalian. I don't really go to church much anymore."
"There's nothing wrong with exploring other beliefs." He means that, whole-heartedly.
"Yeah. That's what my daddy always said, but churches can be funny 'bout that. But I suppose it sort of made me feel better about moving away from my family."
He gives a mild, thoughtful nod. "Most churches don't encourage that, no... is your family religious?"
"My family's...sort of religious. My daddy is, mom's not at all. I go pretty much every week when I can manage it, but I'm still not exactly sure where I stand."
"I'm never certain exactly what people mean when they say somebody's religious." He perches on a chair, and watches her with a calm but serious expression that seems a little too old, on his face. "Not that I mean to insult any of your family's behavior, but it seems sometimes what people mean is just that they go through the motions on a strict and frequent basis..."
"I believe there is something bigger governing our universe. I don't know what it is...but I have a hard time in sayin' that it's entirely as this one book says it is, and nothing else even comes close to to truth."