Veritas Ratio has been growing increasingly concerned about Aventurine's self-destructive tendencies- desperate gambles that throw his life in a minefield- though he's lucky enough to narrowly avoid each mine. But what will happen when that luck fin...
Aventurine returned to the hotel soon after, unable to shake the feeling of being watched until he was back inside. Ratio looks up from his book.
"Welcome back, gambler."
And then the feeling came back, but this time it was a feeling that was innately Ratio.
So he hadn't been watching out the window after all.
Not that he would expect Ratio to watch him from the window.
But at least that would give him an answer.
The feeling was a prickle on the back of his neck, that made his heart beat just a bit faster. He grips the wrist of his left hand, wandering to the kitchen. As expected, there was no food in the fridge. There was a drawer of silverware in the counter beside the sink, and rows of glass cups and bowls in the cabinets on the wall. He fills up a glass of water and downs it in a couple gulps, hoping the cool liquid would sooth his nerves, and in turn, his thoughts.
"Have you checked for cameras?" He murmurs, not really needing an answer.
"Yes." Of course Ratio heard.
"Didn't find any?"
"No."
The conversation was simple. Brief. His anxieties were probably for naught. He wasn't sure what to do now. Reading wasn't really his thing. He decided to count (something that Ratio had told him to do before) the cups in the cabinet (10), then maybe the bowls (8), the forks (12), the spoons (12), the knives... (14) He wrote it down in a small notebook. It could be useful information- probably not, but his gut feeling wasn't wrong often.
He moves on to the flowers on the table (3 red flowers with 6 petals, 4 pink with 8 petals, and 2 clumps of light purple flowers with too many individual petals for him to count.) There was a small nick at the mouth of the vase. Ratio observes with an approving hum.
"That's better than getting blackout drunk." He comments.
"Shut up." The Avgin mumbles in response, not in the mood for his remarks. Usually he would have retorted with a snarky comeback, but his mind was scattered at the moment.
Light purple... there was a word for that color, right?
"What's this color?" He gestures to the flowers.
"Lilac. In fact, the name comes from the lilac flowers you have before you."
Right. Lilac.
He moves onto the windowsill flowers. 4 purple daisies(?), each with several layers of petals that would take too long to count, 4 clusters of small blue star shaped flowers (4 flowers in each cluster, with 5 petals on each flower).
"What kind of flowers are these?"
"Symphyotrichum patens and Myosotis stricta."
"Speak normally, please."
"Asters and forget-me-nots, also commonly known as scorpion grasses. But do note that I am not a botanist."
"They're like little stars..." Aventurine gently touches the petal, using the same care one would when handling the most precious jewel. "What do they mean?"
"I have not studied the symbolic nature of little blue flowers, Aventurine. I am not a botanist." He repeats.
"Whatever." Aventurine grumbles. He heads into the other room, finding an intricate blue-purple flower in the windowsill. It was surrounded by little white daisies (8).
The vases on the bed side tables were red, blue and purple, which he quite liked. He barely even realized that the feeling of anxiety had vanished completely.
___
Flowers mentioned:
Forget-me-nots (Forget-me-nots symbolize true love and respect.)
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Asters (Purple asters symbolize wisdom and royalty)
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The big blue flower (Cornflower) (It stands for desire, love, and the metaphysical striving for the infinite and unreachable. It symbolizes hope and the beauty of things.)
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