[Gift] [Prompt] Flower Language [Beo Othin & O'Feirmeoir]

'This is too much,' is Beo’s thought. Surrounded by books and paper and ink, he agonizes over a list of flower names. Ink is splattered across the page from Beo’s feverish writing and indecision. Out loud he says to himself, “They match her fur beautifully, but no roses. They say far too much. I need to convey...affection.”

‘Affection is safer to say than love.’

Merely thinking the word makes the scholarly bun’s face heat up and he has to take a deep breath to collect himself. Beo crosses out “roses” on the paper in front of him with his glass-tipped tail and turns the page of the field guide to edible flowers he had procured. He has flipped through it several times now and had only picked two so far. Honeysuckle, for the nectar and sweet smelling petals that means feeling sweet towards someone, according to the book, and Calendula. That one is for simple happiness. Contentment, in a word, which is what he feels when he is with her.

O’Feirmeoir, the farmer who lives and works just outside the city. Today is the day he’s going to tell her how he feels. Indirectly with flowers that she might not know the meaning of. The gift of flowers by themselves should indicate feelings of a...romantic nature, surely? Although, he has given O’Feir a flower before because she loves them. These will be different. He hopes.

Beo gave himself a limit of four flowers early on to keep things simple. The search continues for two more and he turns another page in his guide. Roselle Hibiscus it says at the top with a drawing of a white flower edged in the faintest blush of pink, the petals broad and round, and a red-orange center. Its uses are listed as for honeys and jams and teas with a spicy flavor, and he immediately thinks of the object of his affections.

“Happiness, new beginnings, oh! And affection!” he reads aloud. “That’s exactly what I wanted to say!”

The hibiscus goes on the list with little trouble. Only one more to go and he can run to the store, then deliver them. But what if they don’t have these? Are they out of season? With Matentines in full swing, everyone’s buying flowers. What if they ran out?

‘Baby steps, Beo. One worry at a time,’ he admonishes to himself and hunkers down over his list.

The guidebook is closed and flipped open again at random. Maybe fate will take pity on him. Miraculously, for once, it does. The drawing of a relatively simple flower shape in bright reds, yellows, and oranges catches his eye. Its main meaning has to do with victory and conquest, but reading further he notices the colors have their own meanings, too. Red is passion and strength, obviously. The yellow, though, symbolizes joy and growth. He wants that for O’Feirmeoir.

With a decisive flourish, he writes the last flower name on his list. Beo is on his way to the next step in his journey. He grabs up his things and scurries out the door, excited.

It is still early, and Beo knows of a shop that isn’t far, so he does not need to hurry to reach O’Feirmeoir’s farm. Anxious thoughts run through his head and cause his hooves to move faster on his walk to the flower shop anyways. The shop is reached in record time and he slips through the little flap at the bottom of the door. It has its own little bell that tinkles merrily to herald his arrival at the counter to ask the young lady there for a flower arrangement.

“Is this your first?” asks the flower shop assistant, towering over his little bun form as a doll, but her tone is sweet and her polite smile sincere. Whether she meant first bouquet, first time gifting one to somebun, or first Matentines, Beo is unsure. He fumbles out a flustered response regardless.

“No, I-I mean...yes? I mean…,” he clears his throat and continues, “J-just these in a small bouquet, please.” The list he’d made is handed up to her doll hand and she begins making his order. His worries about the shop running out of stock were for naught, thankfully. The shop assistant doesn’t try making conversation beyond suggesting a ribbon color, but he almost wishes she would. It would distract from her knowing smile.

Not that she knows anything, really, but…does she? Beo’s face starts to grow warm again under his fur. It’s fine! He shouldn’t be this flustered. It’s just flowers he’s giving to a friend. Whom he likes very much. There is nothing to be embarrassed about giving flowers to a friend he finds pretty, and fun, and exciting, and nice to talk to, and so warm, and his bouquet is finished so he swiftly pays and leaves.

Making his way to O’Feirmeoir’s farm, Beo has time to think, and thinking for Beo leads to overthinking. This time is no different. He begins to worry again. Would she like them? What if he happened to pick all the flowers she actually hates? Do any exist that O’Feir could?

Oh no, but what if she’s allergic? Any one of them could give her a reaction of some kind, like make her sneeze, or give her a rash! He’d never forgive himself if his gift gave her a rash. Beo feels hot, thinking that if he was in his doll form he’d be sweating now.

‘No, no. O’Feir knows plants. I have to trust that she’ll recognize these.’

One worry down, and with good timing too. He’s reached her door.

“Now to just…,” he falters as he raises a hoof to knock. Oh, that sweaty feeling is back. Is he getting lightheaded?

“We just…”

He bails.

“Leave it at the door!”

Without ceremony, the poor bouquet that was so carefully curated is chucked at the welcome mat and Beo sprints away without a backwards glance. Perhaps he should have, because then he would have seen O’Feirmeoir coming around the house and looking bewildered at him. Then he wouldn’t be kicking himself for not signing the card.