Thread: A Bouquet Of Weeds WHO: Davian & Cressida (Davida, Cressian) WHEN: April 1, morning WHERE: Cressida's Greenhouse
It was the day of pranks and Davian was eager. He even woke up in time to do some preparing before classes started. Dressed in one of Ambriel's shirts, his boots stuck on bare legs and tail swinging merrily, the demon crept up to the greenhouse. There was no way Ms. Hallowfen would be up this early. The sun had barely risen! No one was up at this demonforsaken hour.
Bundled tightly in his coat and wishing he'd put pants on before leaving Ambriel's bed in Hydra dorms, Davian rose up onto his tiptoes to peer into the window. Somewhere in there was a stink plant and Davian desperately needed it for a prank on Jae. She'd never forgive him, might even kill him, but he would die laughing.
Instead of seeing the rare plant, his eyes fell on another rare sight. Ms. Hallowfen was standing to the side, her hair swept up so that Davian could just make out the profile of her features, and he was awestruck. All thoughts of a prank, all concerns that his legs were cold, and even that distant fear for his future slipped away as he gazed upon Cressida Hallowfen. The sun struck her cheek with a gentle pulse as it rose over the ocean and shone through the greenhouse roof. Brown eyes dazzled, Davian released a slow exhale that fogged the window.
Looking down at himself, Davian bit his lip. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all. Ms. Hallowfen was a woman of class! Quickly, because being away from her was like a tear in his chest, Davian raced away from the greenhouse to Kitsune dorm, his own room, and didn't respond to any of the students who greeted or laughed at his pantsless state.
*****
Not long after his departure, Davian returned. He had changed clothes, wearing his best shirt. It only had a few frayed areas and some wrinkles he couldn't get out with his hands. It technically belonged to Paxton originally. Davian meant to bring it back, he really did. The buttons were at least all there, but the striped tie was on wrong, the back longer that the front and hanging down past his waist line where the shirt was, for once, tucked in. He still had the same old boots on, but they were laced up with makeshift zigzags, missing a couple holes. His pants were at least clean and his waves of raven hair were combed back and sprayed down with hairspray.
Davian had collected some flowers on the way back to the greenhouse, a bouquet of weeds and one artificial flower he'd stolen from someone's dorm room door decoration. He stood before the greenhouse door, breathing in deeply, and then knocked on the door with a giant and eager grin on his face. Wadded in his hand was a Greek poem he was prepared to recite to her. She'd have to accept his love. He couldn't bear it if she rejected him. All thoughts of his future with the bright haired angel were forgotten.