Choking On Sapphires

23 Fever

He's sitting on a stone bench in the garden, coffee in his cup, sipping noisily and admiring the countryside and sunrise on a lazy morning. He's watching the lavender he gave you move in the breeze, most it now planted in an empty section of the field near the edge of your pre-existing garden. The rest littered the garden, bunches of it placed among the low lying flowerbeds, the last bit of it put into a large decorative planter that you'd placed in front of the window in your bathroom. You'll call him in when you're in the bath sometimes, bubbles masking the surface of the water. Bits of flowers, petals, and herbs scattered throughout the rolling hills of the soft mounds you set flight to as your lips pursed and blew. If he remembered the sight of you, what you'd asked him on each occasion couldn't be recalled with it. He just knows he's seen you breaking pieces off and using in your baths and your little bottles of oils and perfumes you made. The smell of the lavender he'd bought you slowly penetrated your hair and skin over the days into weeks of using it. He couldn't help but feel smug at the thought that you went out into the world smelling like something that would remind you of him in some way.

His thoughts and the near silence of the early morning are broken as he hears hooves. He gazes out, seeing a horse riding over the rolling field that lay before the forest on your land. You're atop the horse, galloping in, your hair bouncing with the rest of you. It had blown back, the long braid loose and messy down your back. The first rays of light just starting to break through the gloom of the morning, he can see the heat coming off you as you slow and dismount. As you approach he see's you're wearing another old fashion choice in dress, this one including a corset. The light white fabric of the sleeves, open front shirt underneath the tight fitting plain bodice over a layered skirt that was gathered up into your lap as you held it as you rode. He clears his throat, eyebrows rising as he's noticed the garters that hold up your stockings, worn underneath your riding boots. He found himself quite fond of the look. His eyes continue to watch you as you fix your skirt, hair, and chest as you call out for the man who works in the barn, the horse's reins in your hands. He decides to cut his morning reflection short to investigate.

"What' are you doin' up this early ridin' about?" he asks in a gruff shout as he crosses the dirt path from the garden to the barn.

"Good Morning, Alfie." you say, you scratch your head and mumble to yourself, distracted, walking the horse into the long line of stalls in this side of the barn.

He scoffs and laughs, hands on his hips are you blatantly ignore him. His shoulders still shaking in amusement as you walk farther into the barn, he stands and waits as he sighs and shakes his head at you.
---
Alfie has elected to stay outside the barn, getting to watch you walk with a stomping purpose back towards him, rolling your sleeves up over your elbows.

"I was distracted by Essie, I didn't hear a word you said." you say, shaking your head with a laugh as you crack your knuckles on approach.

"Forgiven, dear." he says with a dismissive shake of his head and wave of his hand. "I was inquiring about what ya doin' ridin' around so early." he politely explains again.

"I ride out before dawn to the forest quite frequently," you say, your face and chest flushed, he notices your hair with varied bits of leaf and twig stuck in its soft waves, you reminding him of some sort of forest nymph. "I have a spot for Essie to graze and run while I take off to the woods much like a rabbit, runnin' and jumpin' and carryin' on." you say with an easy going expression, your eyes bright. "Gets the blood flowing, ya know?" you tilt your head and wrinkle your nose. "Keeps me in fighting shape." you nod and raise your skirts as you take a pitchfork in your hand and move towards a stall. "Gotta stay on top of these things for work." you conclude sweetly before you move from his sight into the stall.