ATTRACTION ─ ʜᴏʟᴍᴇꜱʙᴜʀʏ

~1~

"Just a bouquet of Chrysanthemums, please"

I paid and thanked the man then sent off back to my lodgings through the busy, London marketplace which I had grown fond of over my course of living in the big city. Every Saturday, I ventured out to the flower market to get some Chrysanthemums to replace those from the week before which had since grown old in my room.

Why Chrysanthemums, you are most likely wondering?

Well that my dear friend, is because they are my mother's favourite flower as they represent love and family and also remind me of what once was my lovely home for 16 years of my life - Ferndall Hall. I was never too keen on flowers - they're fragile little things and it's just wrong plucking them from their home in the ground, only for them to wither away in a vase; their sole purpose being decoration.

But flowers were another thing I had grown fond of over my course of living in London. My fondness of them grew because of a special someone who had occupied my mind day and night - a useless boy who had made accommodation for himself in my heart.

Lord Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilweather.

It feels like only yesterday that I had made my way into this same marketplace, in hopes to find him to save him from danger.
I remember vividly the pain I felt when I thought it was over for Tewkesbury when he was shot by the Dowager - his own grandmother - but he wasn't entirely an idiot. Tewkesbury had managed to slip a shield between his clothes which deflected the bullet from the Dowager's shotgun, leaving him alive and breathing.

I don't know why I felt so much pain at the thought of Tewkesbury dying or even just getting hurt. I'm almost sure he's a witch - he's conjured up some magical spell on me that won't let me forget him.

Mother always told me that witches, wizards and all things magic could exist if we want it to - we just have to imagine it.

Maybe I'm going a bit too far with my imagination, if Tewkesbury really was a witch then he should have saved himself from the Dowager and Bowler Hat guy.

I let these useless thoughts wander to the back of my mind and carried on walking back to my lodgings.
I have a bike that I usually use to get around the busy city however, I must admit, I'm not the best at cycling. It joins embroidery on the list of things I'm terrible at.

The winter breeze sent a shiver down my spine and I immediately regretted not bringing my shawl. I picked up my pace, careful of all the people on the busy streets and finally arrived back to my lodgings.

Home, at last.