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[ohdamsel]

Ophelia has taken to going outside with the arrival of warmer weather.

She's felt happier than she's been in ages, just by knowing that her Hamlet was here and (hopefully) safe. She hummed softly to herself as she picked flowers and set them in a basket.

She could use some company, or perhaps a friendly face to say hello.

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[witdiseased]

Here in body, not entirely, perhaps, in mind. What an odd pair they make.

The prince himself leans against a tree, watching his (ah, god his again) Ophelia frolic amongst the flowers. He smiles, arms crossed over his chest, demeanor relaxed and contented.

He won't disturb her while she gathers flowers, but when she is finished, he'll be there.

[ohdamsel]

Ophelia looks at her basket, poking through before deciding that it was a lovely bunch of flowers indeed. She gets to her feet and turns to go back inside when she suddenly sees Hamlet leaning against the tree.

"My prince!" she exclaims, dropping her basket and rushing towards him.

[witdiseased]

"My lady -- thou'st upset thy flowers, and I fear I'm to blame." He wraps his arms around her and kisses her forehead, holding her as close as possible, just to feel her body warm and alive against his.

[ohdamsel]

"O, think nothing of the flowers, my lord," Ophelia breathes, wrapping her arms around him in return. "Have you come to enjoy the fresh air?" she asks, smiling up at him sweetly, "Or perhaps the sun?"