𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐞𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐓𝐰𝐨

  After riding in the carriage for 20 minutes or so, you arrived in town. You thanked the driver and gave him some extra money. He seemed grateful and you felt pleased with yourself. You always enjoyed to treat those who weren't of the same status as yourself as if you were all the same. Because at the end of the day, you all truly were. You were all made equal in the Lord's image.

   You remembered your mother had told you that you were to meet Phillip in half an hour, you were guessing it had only been 20 minutes since she told you— so you had around 10 minutes to yourself.

  You walked into the markets and started to look around, you looked at the jewelry and flowers and much more.

You enjoyed being by yourself, you always had. What you did not like was people recognizing and staring at you. Making comments, most likely on how a noble lady like yourself was unchaperoned.

A woman wearing a dirty red dress gave you a nasty stare as you walked by, looking you up and down and snarling her dirty teeth. Her greasy, matted hair falling onto her forehead.

You didn't react, for it wasn't the first time something like that had happened. Instead you felt sympathy for the women who most likely wasn't as fortunate as you had been in life and had a sort of resentment to those alike you.

   You stopped by a peculiar flower stand that appeared to be unattended. You saw all types of flowers, tulips, peonies, roses. You gently picked up a rose, the petals—a bright and vibrant red, soft against your fingertips. You brought the delicate flower to your nostrils and smelled it—inhaling the rich smell, a gentle smile on your face in doing so.

"Do you fancy roses?"

  You spun around to see who had spoken and were met with a boy with brown hair and brown eyes. He was dressed nicely as well, hair freshly gloomed, a for sure expensive brown tailcoat adorning his tall and somewhat lean frame. He was a noble, you realized.

"I fancy how beautiful they are and how wonderful they smell." You told him, looking into his warm brown eyes. He smiled softly, the corners of his lips curving upward in a way that made his eyes twinkle with a hint of amusement.

"You have a poets heart then?" He spoke again, taking a small step closer and picking up a rose as well, his gaze not leaving yours, "Roses have always been a symbol of beauty and love. But I suppose it's not just their appearance that makes them so special, but the way they seem to hold a thousand untold stories in each petal."

You stared at him in awe, you felt a flutter in your chest at his words, captivated by the depth of his thoughts. He didn't just seem like any noble; there was something more....genuine about him. Something Phillip lacked.

You tilted your head, "You're one for flowers then?"

He chuckled softly, his fingers gently tucking the stalk of the flower behind your ear, his fingers gently moving your hair so it fit properly, "I suppose I am." He said, finishing and moving his hand back towards the flower stand, "They have a way of speaking without words."