(Untitled)

[buriedmybrother]

Antigone is sitting on the floor by the fire, glancing around at passing patrons. Between her fingers, she twirls a tiny, snow-white flower, gleaned from the greenhouse.

It isn't so bad, being a grower of things.

But it's getting to be a hard wait for spring.

Comments

[la_calice]

Utena is terrible at growing things. Despite there being some photographs depicting her watering some very healthy roses.

So she looks over with curiousity from where she sits with her tea.

"That's pretty," she offers, with a friendly smile.

[buriedmybrother]

Antigone glances up at her after perhaps a beat too long.

"Thank you," she says.

[la_calice]

Utena gives her a smile that crinkles her eyes, and raises her hand in a wave.

"Did you grow it yourself?" she asks, curiously, and leans her elbow on the bartop.

[buriedmybrother]

She glances down at the little blossom, frowning slightly.

"It fell off another stalk," she tells her. "I didn't like to think of it being trampled."

Her own seeds have been planted, but they've yet to flower.