ofblcssoms

[ofblcssoms]

𝑫𝑬𝑽𝒀𝑵​: 

—

“Daisies – are you still growing them?” 

They were her favorite flowers, though her mother had counted them little better than weeds - but even weeds could be pretty, just like the poisonous flowers could be useful, it only took a person with the proper skill to bring out the worth of an object – or in this case, flowers. 

Everyone in town had their skills and their values, and what little help Devyn could provide to them, she did. 

“Thank you -” she said, as they walked together, Devyn leading through indicating with a gesture where they needed to turn and go - though they weren’t allowed to go to Alfonse, as it was out of bounds – still, the flowers were important for Lavinia’s work, so Devyn walked towards the town end. “You always take the time to explain to me what the flowers are for - why they’re dangerous or what they’re good for. You could just say that you need them and leave it at that.” 

Lavinia had the people skills Devyn lacked, and even when Devyn tried to be more like Lavinia or Victoria, she blundered. Still, she tried her best. 

When they were outside of earshot of the townspeople, her hand found Lavinia’s sleeve, tugging her to a stop. “I have a problem that isn’t flowers,” she admitted, “and I trust you because – you haven’t laughed at me or treated me different… so, i’m just going to say it – I think my father’s artwork knew what was going to happen … or that it happened before…, and it sounds crazy - I know so please… please … don’t tell anyone.” 

❝ i am, they're among the most agreeable plants in my garden. ❜ quick to take root, undemanding in their needs, and the perfect accompaniment to any bouquet. in a sense, she viewed devyn the same way; quietly resilient yet purposeful, evasive yet somehow always present. ❝ their season should be ending shortly, though. they prefer the spring and summer months. ❜

she could only give a one-shouldered shrug at devyn’s observation, not having put much thought in the matter. ❝ i've found it's better to teach than to safeguard information for myself. ❜ the way she saw it, there was little benefit in withholding knowledge, especially, that which could quite literally mean the difference between the town's health and the populous falling ill with stomach distress from a misguided attempt at tea. now, when it came to withholding how she spent her evenings, the phantasmagorias that lurked in the shadows; that knowledge was never to see the light of day.

and then they were stopping. 

the words settled a pit in her stomach. my father’s artwork knew what was going to happen. until the day of her disappearance, iolanthe cadell stressed the importance of balance. for every fruit that sprouted, a squirrel took its last breath. for all the island gave, it took in equal handfuls. it was in the flowers lavinia picked, the food they ate. there was a pattern to the happenings of the island, one she used to find comfort in until news of the mayor's reached her stand that morning. when the tragedy wasn't entirely a surprise, pieces shifting into place with a sickening click.

  ❝ i don't think you're crazy. ❜ 

if she wasn't the only one to be haunted by her bloodline’s clairvoyance, there was a chance that they weren't resigned to the path they charted. ❝ my mother left journals... i used to think they were just a directory of the island's flora, recountings of her days. ❜ her brow, which had furrowed with the confession, smoothed, curiosity alight in her eyes. ❝ what did the artwork say? ❜ short of seeing it for herself, a second-hand interpretation would have to do.

[ofblcssoms]

𝑽𝑰𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑹​: 

    ❛  𝐢’𝐯𝐞  𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫  𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝  𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭  𝐨𝐧𝐞  𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞,  ❜   an  intrigued  smile  dashes  across  viktor’s  face.  rain  could  be  a  menace,  there  was  the  threat  of  mudslides,  catching  the  wheel  of  your  wagon  in  a  mess,  and  ruining  a  new  pair  of  boots.  but  it  could  also  be  comforting  alongside  a  fresh  cup  of  tea.   ❛  it  doesn’t  scare  you?  especially  with  what’s  happened  .  .  .  i  think  i  would  be  a  little  unsettled  by  it.  slippery  streets,  darkening  paths,  it’s  almost  too  perfect  of  a  scene  to  go  missing  in.  ❜

❝ then i guess i'll be lucky to not go missing. ❜ or rather, perhaps she was just abysmal at self-preservation. finding comfort in the turmoil has always been her penchant; where others turn away, she stares straight into it. she had been too late to heed her mother's warning, to locate the flowers before they were severed at the bud, leaving only hopeless stems. maybe if she could find them tonight before dark... life would blossom instead of being snuffed out. ❝ i think there's beauty in the rain, security. without it, i wouldn't have nearly as many varieties to work with, and when it rains at night it's even better for the soil. ❜ she never stayed out past curfew though, which drew her attention to him. ❝ i could ask the same of you — if you're unsettled, i wouldn't think you would be idly wasting time on me? ❜

[ofblcssoms]

𝑪𝑰𝑨𝑵​: 

✣

he dipped his hand into his front pocket, and pulled from it his own ornament. this one was much older, the paw grey-brown in colour, the cap roughly hewn from aluminum which had darkened with age. on it was fused a single hoop, which currently hung from cian’s middle finger.  “ i’m flattered that you’d think that that little miracle was my first attempt. ”

he spun the thing once around his hand and then looked at it in his palm.  “ people misunderstand the luck of rabbit’s feet. it’s not that the animal itself was lucky. rabbits are so fast, so clever… ”  his eyes raised to hers, then between his talisman, worn and well-used, and the one in her hand, pristine and waiting.  “ if you find a rabbit’s foot, you’re the lucky one. because whatever removed it, got it and not you. ”  less charm, more ward.  “i have my luck, it’s served me well. when i find more, i try to… pass it along. ”

✣

❝ i like to give people the benefit of the doubt. ❜ if the one he gifted was immaculate, a fresh slate to guide her through the years. the one produced from his pocket was tried, battle-worn, the metal cap rubbed smooth from handling. ❝ sounds ominous, ❜ she muttered, eyeing the white paw with a newfound appreciation. it almost felt heavier, the reverence in his words acting as an anchor.

she turned the talisman over once, twice. adjusting. ❝ when you put it that way... i suppose it would be rude to refuse it. ❜ it was a weight she was willing to carry. a smile returned to her features then, lighter as a new thought crossed her mind. ❝ here, ❜ she took a step back, turning to retrieve a single stem. ❝ take this, then. ❜ she held out the hortensia, straight from the bundle she’d been fiddling with just before he arrived. ❝ hydrangea macrophylla, a symbol of good luck and fortune. if you’re passing along your luck, some of mine can’t hurt. ❜

[ofblcssoms]

𝑻𝑨𝑴𝑺𝑰𝑵​: 

~~~~

Tamsin knew who Lavinia was, or at least, she knew of the girl. Roughly the same age, their childhoods coincided with one another’s. That didn’t quite mean their losses did; Tamsin had heard through the grapevine that Lavinia lost her parents to the sea. As for Tamsin, she couldn’t say to where her younger brother had disappeared.

That being said, something about Lavinia’s affect felt much like a wall. It wasn’t… bad, per se, at least Tamsin wouldn’t say so outright, but it did prove to be a head-scratcher. Guess I won’t know anything immediately, Tamsin thought, some people are like that.

Didn’t mean Tamsin would never try.

“Thank you,” Tamsin said, welcoming herself to a seat. With that, Tamsin took the fuller pitcher and poured herself a glass. “No, not every night. Another singer performs on the nights I don’t, and sometimes, we perform together.” 

With that, Tamsin chugged half a glass. “Y-you’re the flower girl, right? You do those complex orchards?”

❝ how do you find that, performing together? ❜ she asked around a sip of ale. just like the plants that occupied her yard, of the performers she knew, musicians could be divided into two groups: those who enjoyed sharing the spotlight and those who wilted when forced to relinquish it.

whilst the former were more straightforward to work with, the latter often proved a worthwhile challenge. two sides of the same coin.

the corner of her lips curled up at the question, head inclining in affirmation. ❝ i am, or lavinia works, if you'd prefer to be less literal. ❜

another sip, ❝ and they aren't so complex once you understand the basics. ❜ easy for her to say, of course. ❝ you just have to pay attention. watch how they grow and react to the elements, pick the flower that responds best, and attach it to the one that doesn't wilt when the soil is too wet. ❜

[ofblcssoms]

𝑫𝑬𝑽𝒀𝑵​:  

—-

“Of course it’s suspicious,” she said, bouncing on her toes as the smaller woman came out. “I say what I mean and mean what I say - it’s really important,” she said, going as far as to wrap her hand around Lavinia’s wrist to lead her away from the bazaar. “I found azure monkshood,” she whispered to her. “You said before that it looks good in your arrangements but to be careful handling it.” 

Actually, Lavinia hadn’t said that to Devyn. She had said it to someone else while Devyn had been lurking nearby. Oftentimes, she didn’t have things worthy to trade like flowers, so she saved what she did to keep her mother’s grave with fresh flowers, the food/drink for the dead, and tending to her light. 

She paused as Lavinia asked for plausible deniability. “If children find it, they’ll hurt themselves. I don’t know if a pig is smarter than a child and would avoid it – but Alfonse is snuffling around.” In her pockets, she guiltily carried stolen truffles. Still, she had weighed the safety of the children and even the baker’s pig, over what she had taken. “I thought you could save the plant before someone destroys it.”

❝ that you do. ❜ in no universe, be it this one or the next, had she and devyn ever engaged in a discourse over wildflowers, let alone one as specific as the one of which she spoke. aware enough of her company to not draw attention to that fact, her lip simply quirked in silent acknowledgement. ❝ right, we’d best get a move on then. ❜

devyn was a compelling study in measured indifference. for someone who made a point of ‘saying what i mean and meaning what i say’, she was remarkably skilled at doing the opposite. protecting the plant from destruction or saving the town’s truffle industry from an agonizing demise, the motive was as elusive as the girl herself.

❝ its toxins are enough to bring a grown man to his knees, even trace amounts cause the throat to close, ❜ she explained, free hand already reaching up to untie the fabric that kept her hair from falling into her eyes. it was a poor substitute for gloves, but it would have to do. ❝ if the children were to touch it... ❜ her mother’s writings were not to be disregarded, and the plant’s volatility was proven when lavinia had once found a mouse overcome by tremors just a handful of steps from the plant’s roots. lavinia stopped abruptly, twisting her wrist just so as to slip out of devyn’s grasp enough to find her hand, clasping it with a squeeze. ❝ thank you. i’m sure it will appreciate not being… destroyed. ❜ smile genuine, she only hesitated another moment before resuming their clipped pace. ❝ i've been waiting for more to sprout, it pairs so well with the daisies.❜

[ofblcssoms]

𝑪𝑰𝑨𝑵​: 

✣

call him a romantic, call him a fatalist, but he did think it was possible his whole life led up to that very trinket. this very table. he thought things like that all the time. he liked to muse on the series of events that had led him to pick up a stilled white mouse behind the barn as a child, to kick the chair of a dark haired girl in class, to accept an invitation to dinner at the bustling hearst home, to submit himself for the task of woodsman; the seemingly mundane choices that shaped the course of his life. who knew what led to what, or what drove him towards it? maybe he chose to come the bazaar this morning, maybe he happened upon miss caddell, maybe it was a coincidence that the token he’d made matched her so prettily. maybe not.

he put a hand to his chest and swayed backwards, as if he’d been shot by an arrow.  “ rodent foot, she says… here. ”  he reaches out and, gently, clasps her wrist, turning her palm upwards. boundaries had never been his strong suit.  “ you have to feel it, properly. ” he places the soft thing in her palm and closes her fingers around it. “ before you spread more slander. ”

✣

before you spread more slander. she fights the urge to roll her eyes at his theatrics, entirely aware that she’s prone to the same when her craft is called into question. ❝ it’s not slander if it’s the truth, ❜  lavinia counters, relenting nevertheless. she doesn’t pull away when calloused fingers ghost over wrist, merely takes a shallow inhale of breath as the foot finds its way into her hand. she would be remiss in disregarding the way it fits just right in her palm, all gentle lines and velvety smooth fur.

thoughts drift unbidden to the journey the paw had endured before it reached this moment. the meadows and rivers it scampered across up until its untimely end, liked to imagine that the body hardly registered the loss. what was one lost limb to a creature with four? with a sigh, she looks up, resolve shattering the longer her fingers cradle the fragile bauble. ❝ are you certain you don’t want it for yourself? ❜ only but so superstitious, she can’t help but give some credence to the beliefs of those who came before her. ❝ i’d imagine luck is more important in your field than mine. ❜ 

[ofblcssoms]

𝑽𝑰𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑹​:

  open  to  anyone  ᵎ    ,    ⌜  cap:  0  /  3  ⌟

  location  …  in  the  town  square,  between  betty’s  &  the  bathhouse

     𝐢𝐭  𝐰𝐚𝐬  𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧,  𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲  close  to  the  sin  dipping  beneath  a  very  thin  line.  the  cobblestones  were  swept  with  spots  of  rain  and  that  smell  of  dirt  was  fresh  in  the  air.  viktor  had  recently  delivered  rough  drafts  of  sketches  to  the  schoolhouse  for  review  and  pawned  some  trinkets  he’d  found  in  the  marshes  for  a  few  coins.  it  was  so  strange  …  the  many  little  glimmering  things  hidden  away  in  the  open.  but  who  was  he  to  question  this  world  and  its  unexpected  surprises?

  ❛  a  little  late  for  a  stroll,  isn’t  it?  ❜  he  flips  the  newly  acquired  ring  and  it  rings  in  the  air.   ❛  don’t  worry,  i’m  not  here  to  cuff  you.   ❜   slowly,  they  approach  the  figure.   

lavinia had a bad habit of wandering when the rains came. not only saving her the task of watering her overflowing garden, the rain brought with it an essential element of nourishment unable to be replicated by human hands; her best blooms sprouted the morning after a good shower. so, as it taunted at the horizon, she ventured outside in search of a new addition to her collection. her mother had written of flowers that bloomed after dark, unassuming by day only to come to life in brilliant color with the setting of the sun. 

❝ it wasn't when i started, ❜ she counters, turning her gaze from the bushes. ❝ a storm is coming, what better time to go for a stroll? ❜ 

[ofblcssoms]

𝑫𝑬𝑽𝒀𝑵​: 

For: @ofblcssoms​ Time: Early Afternoon Location: Lavinia’s floral booth

—-

She exhaled. She had been pacing back and forth in her booth for the better part of an hour – alright, two hours. She worried at her thumbnail with her teeth, ripping the nail down until it bled. It was her chronic problem, she barely had nails left on her fingers, chewing them out of anxiety

Now, she could pretend that she never saw them. Alfonso the Pig was a destructive beast who was the best truffle hunter – and she knew that he’d destroy the flowers but Lavinia wouldn’t know that she knew about these flowers. 

But Devyn - she’d know. 

She made up her mind. Squaring her shoulders, she left her booth and went down the bazaar. She knew each booth by sight, though she didn’t return anyone’s wave or hellos. She was an impolite creature - the opposite of her beloved mother. 

“Lavinia,” she yelled from a good ten feet away from the booth. “Come with me, I need to show you something, and we don’t have a lot of time.” 

There - that should get the other woman’s attention. Now, to put on a smile and go through with doing this. 

she had spent the past hour staring down a particularly finicky strain of calla lily. the plant had been giving her grief for the better part of a fortnight, and she had half the mind to give up. its perennial nature made it one of her favorite species to work with, albeit this particular specimen refused to take to the soil. 

usually in similar circumstances, she would accept its fate, appreciate the color while it lasted, and tuck the flower away into a special bouquet. but no, this particular blossom was a hue she'd been cultivating for nearly three years — white with a rich teal center. she would be damned if the shade was lost due to one stubborn bud.

so, the lily sat in its pot, petulant as a child that refused to join its siblings in the garden for the sake of standing out. there was new growth beginning to take shape from its stem, and she was starting to consider focusing her energy on that when her focus was broken.  

lavinia's head snapped up at the call of her name, brow furrowing at the interruption. ❝ that doesn’t sound at all suspicious. ❜ it wasn't often that she was called for with such urgency, much less by the seamstress. 

not bothering to remove her apron, she cast another glance in the lily's direction before moving to join the other woman, wiping the dirt from her hands as she went. ❝ if we're going rule breaking, all i ask is that there's room for plausible deniability. ❜

[ofblcssoms]

𝑪𝑰𝑨𝑵: 

✣ 

he was starting to doubt he could spark her interest, but then she came out from behind her veil of flowers. he was pleasantly surprised to see her interested, smiling; still on the hook.  he might have needed that.  cian’s lips twitched up. no, he really wouldn’t. if there had been a whole rabbit left, he would have stuffed a whole rabbit. but that seemed too gruesome an image to evoke at this table, so he breezed past it.

how long did it take you to make this?  “ it’s not so simple as that. it’s not all done at once. i think it’s much like your flowers, miss caddell. a patron may think it takes you but a moment to wrap them in a bundle, but only you know how long it takes to grow and gather and trim and learn how to arrange… ” he ran his thumb over the impossibly soft, impossibly white fur.  “ if you’ll allow me to be a little self-indulgent, it took a lifetime to be able to make this. ” a grin spreads across his jaw, self-aware but not self-conscious. he knows he’s waxing poetic, but it’s only half bull.  “ if you won’t… ”  a shrug.  “ a couple nights. ”

✣

amusement danced across her features. ❝  next you'll claim that your whole life has been leading up to this very token. ❜ there was sense to his musings, though. despite her best efforts to remain transparent about her process, not bothering to hide the dirt on her brow after hours of replanting, there were always comments on how leisurely her days must be. ❝ the result is easy, it's the process that stops others from picking it up. ❜ 

just as well, competitive as she was, a rival was the last thing she needed encroaching on her trade. haste makes waste; if the silken fur was any indication. ❝  i'll indulge you, mister o'clare... but i still don't want your rodent foot. ❜ his craft fascinated her, the reanimation of what once had life spilling from it. the antithesis of her life's devotion. she didn't care for blood, much less for toting carcasses. the outcome, however, was worthwhile. allowing her to readily stomach the rest. mostly. ❝  it might scare the flowers. ❜

[ofblcssoms]

𝑻𝑨𝑴𝑺𝑰𝑵​:

Starter Type: Open Location: Betty’s Tavern Muse: Tamsin Cross and UTP Cap: X / 4

“I’m just a so-and-so…” One arm went outstretched. “A lucky so-and-so…” So did the other arm. “I do what I do, ‘cause I’m mad for you…” Both hands went to her chest. “But just a peek at you,” Another hand went out again. “And I can see that you’re delirious,” A playful shake of her head. “So seriously, Honestly!”

“If I was playing, baby, you’d be sorry,” Sang an instrument player, just behind her. “Baby,” Tamsin wagged a finger. “End of story!”

That girl’s in love with you echoed throughout the tavern, at least until the song faded, what with Tamsin ending her lyrics and the accompanying band quieting their instruments. It was the last song of the evening, after which Tamsin could mingle amongst the patrons and find out this-and-that about their lives.

Whoever she would choose would become the object of her curiosity, and upon receiving a compliment, Tamsin could not help but blush (as compliments never grew tired for her).

“Thank you for coming!” Tamsin only needed to spare a glance at someone. “First time for you and your friends? I’m just off my ‘shift,’ if it makes sense to call it that. Whoo!” Tamsin put her hand over her collarbone, not quite her throat – boy, could she use a drink! “Honestly, I’m parched from all of that.”

never one to turn away an ale at the conclusion of a long day, lavinia found herself at the tavern. it was busy, though not so much that she wasn't able to scope out a table just by the bar. in the middle sat a pitcher of water; the trick to not quickly overstaying her welcome. loathe as she was to admit it, her petite frame did not allow for a high tolerance to alcohol. however, that didn't stop her from ordering the largest pint on offer.

she watched the musicians' set come to a close, toying with condensation on her glass as the woman took her bows. ❝ they're right, ❜ lavinia offered, taking her cue from the lapse in conversation to nudge a spare glass in her direction, ❝ you sounded really good. ❜

❝ are you here every night? ❜ not that it would change anything — she was woefully unobservant when it came to her surroundings.

[ofblcssoms]

𝑪𝑰𝑨𝑵​: 

status:  open to any, up to three threads. setting:  flexible— the tavern, the bazaar, the jazz club, his workshop. slots:  ( jihan. )  ( two. )  ( three. )

“ah, come on,” cian needled, “it’s good luck!” he dangled the snow white rabbit’s foot in front of his companion. it was damn fine work, if he could say so himself; capped with seamless pewter and adorned with a little chain he’d spun by hand, so it could be attached to a key ring or a belt loop. he’d even run a thin white ribbon through the chain links. soft as a cloud and pretty as a picture, and he couldn’t understand why anyone might not want to carry a limb around. “you telling me you’re in a position to turn down good luck?”

✣

❝ i am, if it comes at the price of carrying a severed body part around my neck, ❜ she retorted around a bouquet of vibrant hydrangeas, the flower stand awash with purples, blues, and pinks. to be fair, she could admire the woodsman‘s craftsmanship, delicate muscles tied off just so to give the impression that it had always been this way, created for the explicit purpose of being a trinket in someone’s pocket. finally rounding the stand to face him, lavinia’s teeth flashed in a grin, ❝ he might have needed that. ❜ she gave the paw a gentle prod for good measure, half expecting it to twitch. ❝ how long did it take you to make this? ❜ 

[ofblcssoms]

*      & .    🍂    ◜    good   morning,   fellow   dreamer   !   have   you   heard   of   LAVINIA   CADDELL   ?   they   are   twenty seven   years   old,   known   to   be   genuine   and   inventive,   yet   sarcastic   and   cryptic,   from   what   i've   heard.   rumor   has   it   they’re   a   FLORIST   at   THE BAZAAR.   you’d   probably   remember   them   if   you   heard   NEVER GOING TO CATCH ME   by   rostam,   which   is   revealing   since   they   remind   me   of   sunlight glinting off a petal’s dew,   the warmth of smooth ground espresso with a hint of amaretto ,  and  sea breeze trapped within a morning mist.    ╱

[ about ] ⧫ [ melodies ] ⧫ [ interactions]

&. BASICS

full name: lavinia wynn caddell

age / D.O.B.: 27 / jan 18

gender, pronouns, sexuality: cisfemale, she/her, bisexual

job position: florist

relationship status: single

&. MORE BASIC INFO

zodiac sign: capricorn

mbti: infj - introverted (53%), intuitive (74%), feeling (60%) judging (51%) turbulent (53%)

languages: english, french

scars: a faint scar on her chin from when she got too close to her father while out fly fishing

bad habits: swearing, throwing things in frustration

secret talent: she’s surprisingly skilled at knot-tying, too many years of helping her father on the boat paying off in a skill she uses mainly to bundle bouquets for clients

fears: the sea

five + traits: genuine, inventive, reliable, insouciant, humorous

five - traits: sarcastic, cryptic, impulsive, stubborn, nihilistic

&. BACKGROUND

the youngest daughter of a fisherman and a produce farmer, lavinia enjoyed an easy childhood. days were split between tying knots with her father or sowing seeds with her mother, her older brother often preferring to spend his time woodworking. unplanned and nearly a month early, lavinia wasn’t an easy birth. and, from the telling of it her, mother was never the same. she never let on as much to her daughter, but when the third child was stillborn —a complication believed to have been caused by lav’s birth several years prior— the truth could no longer be avoided. to compensate, lavinia gave up her early mornings to prepare the garden for the day, lessening her mother's workload. lavinia had a natural green thumb, everyone said so, and it earned her the moniker 'petit fleur'.

still, the sea called.

sunkissed-wooden planks with gulls overhead, seaspray tangled in her hair, lav was determined to carve a place alongside her father. to become a cartographer and discover what lay beyond ilaydas. the family would often spend hours aiding in his fishing endeavors, and on days when the children were in school, the parents would treat the bay as an escape.

until one day, they didn’t return.

from that day on, lavinia avoided the shore. every crash of a wave sent a chill down her spine, seeping into a wound that never quiet healed. she turned her sights on solid ground; the earth could not devour what was not already dead. furthering her mother's technique of tying blossoms to stems resistant to rot, lavinia fostered a newfound appreciation for plants. grafting became a hobby, with the blonde applying the process to grow orchids that never wilted, peace lilies that flowered in the stormiest of weather.

when she opened up her stand at the bazaar, she was met with a flurry of reactions, ‘finally,’ ‘your mother always knew,’ ‘aren't you glad you weren’t stuck to those fish?’

it would be a lie to say her thoughts don’t still linger to the sandy outskirts of the town, that her eyes doesn’t snap up at the sound of fishing nets being carried by. she loves what she does, having found a passion in creating fragrant masterpieces, though the what ifs will always linger. 

&. PERSONALITY

quick-witted and unafraid to give her honest opinion, lavinia is your best bet for a healthy dose of reality

lav is well-meaning in all she does, and genuinely seeks to help those in her life. that said, she has a bad habit of holding grudges. anyone who crosses her should prepare to find thorns in their daisies

sarcasm is a cloak she wears well, a coping mechanism developed to get through the disappearance of her parents that has stuck around. that said, she’s very open, so long as the conversation doesn’t stray too far from the surface; she’ll just as readily discuss her emotions as she’ll endure a root canal

she pairs her silver tongue with an easy smile, oozing charm to soothe the sting of her words. she’s not malicious, though. as far as she’s concerned, she’s hilarious — she simply isn’t bothered with whether or not anyone else agrees

she doesn’t speak of her parents often, if at all, having grown tired of pitying stares. deep down, she believes they might still be alive out there. that their disappearance was a choice to escape a life they never wanted and that’s the guilt she carries every time the fishermen bring in the day’s haul

lav is skilled at herbalism, learning the basics of making poultices from her mother. she’ll often help the maison source herbs when needed

she once dreamed of being a cartographer, but that’s all it will ever be, and she hides it well — ‘ there comes a time when little girls must put away childish dreams ’ 

&. BOLD WHICH HABITS YOUR MUSE HAS

nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of pens | smoking | swearing | knuckle cracking | thumb sucking | muttering under their breath | talking to themselves | nose picking | binge drinking | oversleeping | snacking between meals | skipping meals | picking at skin | impulse buying | talking with their mouth full | humming/singing to themselves | chewing gum | leg jiggling | foot tapping | hair twirling | whistling | eye rolling | licking lips | sniffing | squinting | rubbing hands together | jaw clenching | gesturing while talking | putting feet up on tables | tucking hair behind ears | chewing lips | crossing arms over chest | putting hands on hips | rubbing the back of their neck | being late | procrastinating | doodling | shredding paper | peeling off bottle labels | forgetfulness | running hands through hair | overreacting | teeth grinding | nostril flaring | slouching | pacing | drumming fingers | fist clenching | pinching bridge of nose | rubbing temples | rolling shoulders

&. CONNECTIONS

tbd.

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brielarsonist​:

FLORENCE PUGH as AMY MARCH LITTLE WOMEN (2019) dir. Greta Gerwig

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Susan Sontag - “Death Kit”

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[ID: 3 green leaves with text stamped on them. They say "It's so hot and the sky's so blue", "I want people to know me", "but it's so hard to tell them". ]

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humansofstarshollow​:

-Colors series-

Prussian Blue and Champagne + Emily Gilmore

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