[closed log]

[wisdomofagod]

Who: Rokujo Miharu (wisdomofagod) and Yoite (liricamente) as usual.
What: Domesticity involving flowers I think.
Where: Their room.
When: Today?

Comments

[liricamente]

[It's an awkward way to come home, but Yoite manages. The doors have been sighing and cooing at him, because they think it's lovely.

What 'it' is is a vase of large flowers. They're yellow and red, in varying shades, and the vase is clear. He has it in the crook of his arm, supporting it with a hand underneath. It isn't all that heavy, but there's an air of caution because he doesn't want to spill it or slosh water over the side or drop it or break any stems or somehow kill the flowers with just his presence. And so on.

He announces his return quietly, over the sizzling of dinner, and then he sets the vase atop a counter, rests his hands at his side, and stares at it. One of the yellows begins to droop. Yoite frowns, and is now trying to adjust it with his finger, hopefully before Miharu looks too hard at it.]

[wisdomofagod]

[Miharu hears Yoite enter and makes sure what he's cooking is okay before turning around. When he does, he is surprised to see flowers sitting on the counter and Yoite staring at them. They're pretty, he realizes as he's studying them in curiosity.]

You bought flowers?

[He also realizes that the scene he's part of now is laughably domestic; he's making dinner in their apartment when Yoite comes home with a vase of flowers. He flushes for a moment, then quickly squashes the thought.]

[liricamente]

[The same realization doesn't quite hit Yoite. He's not got much of an idea of how domestic things like that are meant to be. They're flowers and he brought them, and it's a little embarrassing but he isn't able to pinpoint why.

He touches a petal with his thumb, and then pulls his hand back and straightens fully from where he'd been leaning over them.]

When I was walking-- [For some reason he feels the need to explain himself.] It was really bright, out of the corner of my eye. So when I looked, there were flowers.

...They smelled nice enough to bring.

[wisdomofagod]

They're pretty. [He puts down his cooking utensils to walk over to the flowers and smell them. They smell nice.]

Try not to touch them too hard or they'll wilt.