Strawberry Island (girlxgirl)

Garden of Eden

Clara brushed her hair in the mirror, replaying every interaction with Florence she could recall. Every close encounter, every kiss, every conversation, and every time their warm bodies connected. She finally snapped herself out of the trance and put the brush down, eagerly ready to see the brunette once again. Her foot was still in a great deal of pain from the other day, the stitches kept her from swimming or participating in much of any other activities. However, it didn't bother her too much since she knew that Florence didn't have a liking for such activities anyways and the blonde only wanted to be around the brunette.

"You've been in quite the promising mood lately, have you forgotten that the summer is coming to an end?" Malcolm inquired as he closed the book in his hand, Florence got up from her seat at the kitchen counter and tried to keep herself from rolling her eyes. "Father, would you try to not kill my mood right now." She swiftly skipped out of the kitchen and into the backyard, the sun was shinning and there was a subtle breeze that made her pause in admiration of the summer weather. 

"You don't suppose Florence has gotten her hands on some sort of stimulate, do you Ophelia?" Malcolm turned to his wife as she took Florence's now-vacant seat with a raised eyebrow. "Try not to get ahead of yourself, you'll stress yourself out. She is solely enjoying her summer." She responded, surpsingly taking Florence's side; most likely because her daughter was not in earshot.

"If you say so, however it will benefit her greatly if she finds her Ainsworth morals once again when we leave the island. Even if there are no drugs at play here, her behavior is none the less concerning." Malcolm added, tightly lipped as he dumped the remaining amount of nearly boiling coffee from his mug down the drain. Ophelia sighed in agreement as she watched from the window as Florence threw her hair up in a messy bun and admired the beautiful garden of flowers she had always neglected to visit. 

The ringing doorbell on the front door of Winterberry drew Gwendolyn to meet Florence, her arm arched at her hip. "What a surprise, Florence." The brunette gritted her teeth at the unexpected sight of her aunt in the doorway. "Fuck, you're unbearable." She thought to herself as she faked a warm smile. "If you're looking for Evangeline, she woke up a few hours ago just so she could practice her tennis swing, its very impressive to see her dedicate her free time to bettering her skills. Anyways what have you been up to?" Gwendolyn asserted, clearly disinterested in what Florence had to say. 

She could always see past Gwendolyn's paper thin facade of even slightly approving of Florence. She knew her aunt had always somewhat resented Malcolm and Ophelia for having their first child before she had the chance. The brunette found it silly more than anything, she didn't ask to be born first, or even ask to be born at all. How could someone be jealous of a child? Even if it stemmed from their first grandchild privilege, money, power, and all the stuff Florence could hardly pay any mind to. 

"I was simply planning on going on a quick jog around the island." She lied quickly and weakly.

"Thats quite the idea, especially since young women's bodies can put on such an unnecessary amount of weight during the summertime. However, your attire seems far from being  appropriate for exercise, I can't imagine you running a mile in those Gucci sneakers. But best of luck to you hun." Gwendolyn responded before slowly closing the door in her niece's face trying and failing to imitate politeness. 

"Charming as always aunt Gwen." She spoke confidently as she knew the door was closed and her words fell upon deaf ears. 

Florence trudged back to Mulberry and stomped up the steps to her room in defeat. "Ah thats more like our daughter." Malcolm chuckled at the sight of Florence's blank, cold expression. She dug in her closet for any sort of athletic clothes she could find, a grey tank top and black shorts went along with her nearly never worn running shoes. She stormed back down the stairs. "Where are you off to dressed like that?" Ophelia inquired, trying not to laugh. "A jog." Florence muttered.