Covent Garden Flowers, Thursday
Peter had gone out onto the technicolor world yesterday, taken one look, and shapeshifted his eyes to see about half the color that was there. After that, it wasn't so bad. He kept his guard up, but the inhabitants were friendly and nothing seemed terribly dangerous.
So, he'd bought some flowers. Since he seemed to somehow own a flower shop now.
The plant he put in the window, and the cut flowers he set in a bucket between perfectly normal greenery, which toned them down enough they didn't actually look too bad. If someone wanted to mix them in a bouquet or something, they might actually look cheerful instead of overwhelming.
He probably should figure out flower arranging or something, shouldn't he? He imagined there was more to it than just sticking things in a vase and hoping they'd fit. And it would give him something to do when he couldn't cope with the memories anymore.
He took all the books and papers and magazines he'd scrounged up from this place, and started paging through them.
Somebody should probably tell him about the internet.
[Open!]
So, he'd bought some flowers. Since he seemed to somehow own a flower shop now.
The plant he put in the window, and the cut flowers he set in a bucket between perfectly normal greenery, which toned them down enough they didn't actually look too bad. If someone wanted to mix them in a bouquet or something, they might actually look cheerful instead of overwhelming.
He probably should figure out flower arranging or something, shouldn't he? He imagined there was more to it than just sticking things in a vase and hoping they'd fit. And it would give him something to do when he couldn't cope with the memories anymore.
He took all the books and papers and magazines he'd scrounged up from this place, and started paging through them.
Somebody should probably tell him about the internet.
[Open!]