frozenfractals | (no subject)

Kate is way, way overdue in officially meeting Elsa, given that she and Jessica have been dating for ages already, but sometimes she gets busy and sort of forgets that she is supposed to jokingly pretend to be checking out her friends' significant others, as if she would ever disapprove or deny someone the freedom to choose the person they want to be with. Unless said person is awful and then she'd have something to say, but she's entirely convinced that's not the case with Elsa.

Newt might not need the flowers, but given his broken arm, she thinks it might be a nice way to brighten up the apartment, so she figures this is probably the best and most casual way for her to introduce herself, because for all Kate likes to be dramatic and ridiculous, she definitely doesn't want to make anything awkward.

"Hey," she answers, giving a little wave. Elsa has to at least recognize her, she figures, since Kate ends up talking to Jessica so often at Olive's parties. "What's up?"

Jessica's friends make Elsa a little nervous, admittedly. So far they've all been really nice, and there's no real reason for her to expect otherwise, but Elsa still worries they won't like her. She's still not the best at reaching out to other people, but she doesn't want to come off as cold (in more ways than one).

She's seen Kate around before, at various occasions. She should have, she thinks now, talked to her sooner, but she's never been good at being the first to approach. That Kate is here now is as unnerving as it is a relief.

"Oh, not much," she says. "I'm just working on a new arrangement. Kate, right?" She may not be good at talking to people, but she never forgets names. There was a time doing so could have provoked an international incident, so she learned.

"Got it in one," she agrees with a grin and she knows better than to just reach out and start touching things in a place like this, but the flowers are so pretty and some of them look downright soft and she has to clench her fingers tight for a moment or risk probably ruining something delicate.

"So I'm not even here to be that weirdo who like, checks up on her friend's significant other," she admits. "I mean, I totally am that weirdo, that's absolutely something I would do, but this time I am legitimately here for flowers."

She might as well be honest about the shit she does. It wouldn't surprise Jessica, she's sure of that, but Elsa doesn't know her at all.

Esa knows what she has with Jessica is steady and certain and there's nothing to worry about, but she still wants her friends to like her, and it's been impossible not to think of them judging her. It is, somehow, both nervewracking and reassuring to hear Kate suggest exactly that. But she's not here for that.

Not just for that, at least.

And Elsa knows flowers, she reminds herself. That, she can do. "Well, there's nothing especially interesting to check up on," she says, self-deprecating, "so it's a good thing we have plenty of flowers. What can I help you find?"

"Well, that's not true, there's always something interesting," she says with a grin, because everyone's relationship has the juicy bits. Most people prefer to keep those quiet and that's totally fine by Kate, especially when she knows Elsa basically doesn't know her at all.

She's pretty sure Jessica wouldn't even tell her that stuff.

"Okay, so... what says 'I'm sorry some drug addled maniac broke your arm and I hope you feel better soon'?" she asks. "Is there a flower for that?"

"Oh, that sounds awful," Elsa says, pressing a hand to her heart. At least it's only a broken arm and not worse, since that sounds like a very dangerous situation to be in, but it's awful all the same. "Well, let me see... Perhaps carnations? They're bright and cheery, and they mean good health. We could throw in some snowdrops for a bit of white against the color. Those are for consoling someone."

They're also her codename, but that's neither here nor there. Some things don't bear sharing.

"Shit, man, you just like... took that completely in stride," Kate says with an impressed nod. "I guess stuff like that is pretty much par for the course living in Darrow, though, huh?"

Weird shit suddenly becomes normal and people start talking about flying monkeys and yetis bursting into New Year's Eve celebrations and no one even bats an eye. That's part of what Kate actually likes about this place, but sometimes it still surprises her when things don't surprise people.

"But, yeah, okay, cool," she says with a laugh. "I mean, I know nothing about flowers, so whatever you suggest is awesome."

Elsa laughs. "Well, you live in this city long enough," she says wryly. She's seen some strange things, too, as Snowdrop, and heard even stranger from Jess, who has two cities' worth of weird stories. Stepping out from behind the desk, she starts across the shop toward several bouquets of carnations. "Eventually you'll hear everything, I think. Who are they for?"

"Oh, for my husband," Kate answers as she follows Elsa across the store. Everything smells pretty nice and she pauses here and there to sniff something, but mostly just keeps up. "He's a scientist, he works at the lab, and this crazy guy broke in to look for this drug he was all hopped up on. I don't know why this psycho isn't in jail, but Newt, that's my husband, he's like, oh, he didn't mean it, he didn't know what he was doing."

She still thinks everyone who was hurt should press charges, but no one seems particularly inclined and she doesn't get it at all.

"Your husband sounds very forgiving," Elsa says, brow raising. She tends to be forgiving herself, believes wholeheartedly in the importance of second chances, but that doesn't mean people shouldn't also have to deal with the consequences of what they've done. There's a fine line to be walked between those two things, but it can be done. "I mean, maybe this guy didn't know what he was doing, but he still hurt someone. That has to have some consequences."

She and Jess take care of things like that sometimes, though Jess is pretty busy with school these days. They make time for each other and their other jobs.

"What do you think of red and orange? That seems nice and cheerful."

"Right?" Kate asks. "That's exactly what I think, but he has like, probation and has to pay a fine and has community service, so I guess technically he's being punished, but it's just like... you can't go around breaking peoples' arms because you want drugs."

Newt had seemed to like to guy well enough before the giant attack disaster, so Kate supposes maybe he's nice and deserves a second chance, but she's never been all that forgiving. Not with anyone besides her mother, she supposes, because she'd forgiven Tara a lot of shit over the years.

"Red and orange sounds awesome," she agrees. "Bright, which Newt definitely is."

Dutch isn't even sure why she's here. Flowers aren't an entirely unfamiliar concept but they don't grow in Westerley. The environment is too dry, too toxic so sometimes the splash of colors is enough to stop her in her tracks.

Matthew's loss is still heavy on her heart and she finds she needs something to take her mind off of him and how that hurts. The color and fragrance of flowers is something that isn't alcohol so she'd stepped in and wandered around.

"It's no bother," she says once the girl behind the counter looks up. "I haven't been in here before and the flowers caught my eye. They're beautiful."

"Thank you," Elsa says. They aren't hers, exactly, the flowers. The shop doesn't belong to her and, even if they buy and sell them, the flowers belong to themselves, as far as Elsa's concerned. They did all the work of growing, after all. Still, she feels a certain proprietary pride whenever someone compliments them. She's put in a lot of work here.

"Take all the time you like looking around. And let me know if you have any questions."

"We don't have these back where I'm from," Dutch murmurs, letting her fingers trail across the petals of a particularly vibrant red flower. The color is loud but the texture is soft and she sighs quietly.

"They couldn't survive the arid environment," she says, shaking his head. "It's funny how something as simple as flora becomes amazing. Westerley wouldn't look so washed out if we could something like this to grow somewhere."

"My homeland is... covered in forest and snow," Elsa says, nodding her understanding. "Beautiful, but it can seem very isolated in winter. And washed out." She always loved the spring, though. The palace gardens were bright with flowers then, especially crocuses, even if she almost always saw them only through her window. "It's amazing what a few flowers can do to liven up a place."

"Forest and snow," she repeats, almost sighing. There are bound to be places like that on Q'resh or Leith but she's never stuck around there long enough to explore. Those planets have been mined to within an inch of their lives by the Nine because no wealthy person wants to live in a dry, barren environment.

"I know that's probably not all that exciting to you anymore but I think there'd be a week long party if snow ever fell in Westerley," she says with a quiet laugh. "No one would know what to do with it. The rain that falls is toxic so having something fall that wouldn't affect the people that live there would be quite the thing. I'd love it to happen. It won't but I wish it would."

"That sounds awful, I'm sorry," Elsa says. The weather back home wasn't exciting to her, no; if anything, she found the snow alarming, a reminder of what she, too, could do. These days, though, she misses it. It's still home, after all, no matter how thoroughly she settles in here. She's grown used to her life in Darrow, even enjoys it, but there's still a part of her that feels she should be home, taking care of her kingdom.

"Do you miss it even so?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I miss it more and more every single day I'm here. Not that I mind this place but the Quad's my home and I've still left a lot undone back there. There's still a lot of people I need to see before I decide to settle down in one place."

She doesn't really see herself ever settling if she's honest. She loves space too much, loves her job too much and likes that, if she gets tired of one certain place, she can get into her ship and leave it. She's never stuck in one place.

"Do you miss your home?" Dutch asks. "Or was it one of those places that's better to be away from?"

For a long time, Elsa had thought she'd be happier somewhere else, in some other kingdom where she couldn't do her people harm. Maybe she'd be happier in Darrow if that hadn't changed. Though even thinking that makes her feel a bit guilty, as if she were wishing away her experiences here.

"I miss it very much," she says, nodding. "I wasn't always very happy there, but it was home. There was a lot more I would have liked to do. But I'm happy to be here, too. I guess that makes me lucky. I know a lot of people aren't."

Dutch nods, knowing she'd been one of those who hadn't been happy at first. She doesn't think she can really say she is now but she's settled, she's accepting. She would still jump at the first sign that she could go back but she's no longer spending her days trying to get home.

"Being here is...an experience," Dutch says agreeably. "I'm much more used to spending my days in a ship among the stars. Being on a planet for this long isn't typical for me so it's taken some getting used to but it's been all right. It's been different but it's been all right."

Elsa lets out a breath of a laugh and shakes her head. "When I'm from," she says, "I'd never even thought about... spaceships and flying between stars and planets. It just wasn't possible. It's still a marvel to me that anyone does it at all, let alone routinely."

She thinks she would have been too frightened, back in Arendelle, for it to seem fun. Now that her powers are better under control, though, adventures seem more enticing than they once did.

"Have you ever flown at all before?" Dutch asks curiously. There are people here who have been in planes or other forms of transportation that fly through the sky, flitting through clouds and across the sun but they never get to the inky black of space.

"You should, if you haven't," she continues on without waiting for a reply. "It's not the same as getting to float through space but it's pretty amazing. Nothing like being up there and looking down to see the small specks of humanity below you."

Matthias is late for his shift, which he never is. Punctuality has always been important to him, if being drüskelle taught him anything actually helpful it was a strong work ethic. Despite this, it had been hard to get out of bed this morning. The crisp air on the walk over had helped, but he still feels like he's running on reflexes, like he can only do this because he's done it for so long.

"Sorry," he mumbles to Elsa, coming behind the counter to tie on his apron. "Hello."

"Hello, Matthias," Elsa says, greeting him with a small smile that doesn't quite cover her concern. He has always been punctual, ready to get down to work, and, though often serious, he's rarely seemed quite so off as he has recently. It's hard for her to put a finger on what's wrong exactly. If she hadn't spent so much time working with him, she likely wouldn't notice anything amiss. "Are you well?"

Matthias pauses in the middle of tying the apron strings behind his back, going still for a moment before finishing the knot and dropping his arms. "I'm..." He doesn't know if it would be appropriate to put this burden on Elsa, especially while they're at work.

At the same time, he hates to lie. "I'm not well," he admits. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright," Elsa says, and then corrects herself. "You don't have to be sorry." It's not alright that he's unwell, of course. Or, rather, it would be more pleasant for him if that weren't the case. She wonders if there's anything she can do to help with that. More often than not, she finds, there isn't, but she can at least try. The shop is quiet, thankfully, giving them a little space and time. "I'm sorry to hear it. What's going on?"

Matthias swallows and takes a deep breath, steadying himself so that when he answers his voice will sound normal and unwavering. He hasn't talked about this with anyone but Dutch yet, having holed away in his apartment with Trass after he told her.

"Matthew is gone. He's...back home, or whatever this place does with someone when it takes them," he says. He feels like he only just told Elsa that Matthew moved in with him, that's how short of a time Matthias had with him in the apartment.

"Oh, Matthias," Elsa says softly and shakes her head. "I'm so sorry." She still finds herself reeling at times from the loss of her sister months ago, and she knows she'll see Anna again when she returns to Arendelle. If she were to lose Jessica in that way, she hardly knows what she would do with herself, how she would even begin to pick herself up again. Inconsolable, she fears the sort of damage she could do to this city. "That's horrible. Are you sure you want to be here today? I'd understand if you'd rather go home."

There's no reason at all to be in here. The colors of the flowers had caught his eyes, briefly soothed the whirlwind of confusion and distress he's been feeling since his arrival here, and Bodhi had walked into the shop with the hope that he might find more of a respite from his thoughts.

He remembers too late that there'd surely be someone there to greet him. Had he not just been caught inside, Bodhi thinks he would have turned to walk right back through those doors. Instead, he finds himself transfixed by a pair of the bluest eyes he's ever seen, and he's quiet for too long a moment before he speaks.

"It's no bother," Bodhi tells her, shifting from one foot to the other. He's still not quite comfortable in the jeans he'd bought, his flightsuit out of commission now and decidedly unnecessary. His arm still hurts, especially when he moves it too much, but he's grateful for the jacket that covers his bandage. He may have to feel it, but he doesn't have to look at it.

"You have a lovely shop."

He's silent for a moment too long, and Elsa supposes it should be unnerving, but it's really just familiar, that beat of uncertainty. At least, that's what it is with her. She's never been antisocial because she disliked people; it was only fear that kept her away, and she's still a little lost around strangers outside of a professional context.

This one seems nice, though. She smiles at the compliment, and glances briefly down at the arrangement she's working on. "It isn't mine," she says. "I only work here, but thank you. It's a wonderful place. Can I help you find anything?"

"Right."

Right, of course. Bodhi narrows his eyes, mostly because he feels too sheepish to hold her gaze, and wanders just to the right to gently brush his fingertips over the pedals of a white flower.

"Nothing in particular," he admits. "Honestly, I'm not sure why I came in. I've just been... walking." Bodhi's down a lot of that lately. He misses flying. "I think I liked all the colors. The living quarters I was given, it's so bare."

He must not be from here either, Elsa thinks. There's always an odd moment of kinship when she comes to that conclusion, a sort of relief. Here is another stranger in a strange land, lost somewhere new, somewhere overwhelming and bizarre. Even with Anna at her side, Darrow proved almost too much for her at first. The apartment that's now become a home was then so bereft of anything, it only felt depressing.

"You should take some flowers home with you," she suggests. "I found it helpful to have some color around when I first arrived. It makes things feel more alive."

"Alive," Bodhi echoes, hardly even meaning to at first, but it brings a faint smile to his face.

Alive is what he wants to be. He'd decided that once he'd found Jyn and Cassian, once he'd realized he wasn't alone here. There's a reason now, to survive, to open his eyes each morning. Bodhi had accepted even before landing on Scarif that any mission in the name of the Rebel cause might be his last, that'd been something he'd been... well, maybe not at peace with but something he could grasp without letting it make him fall apart.

Here, though, Bodhi can have a family. It's what he calls Jyn and Cassian already, though he hasn't said it to them because for whatever reason, it feels a little too soon. There's still every possibility they'll decide they want nothing to do with him after all and stop answering the door when he calls or checking in on him with their devices they'd called phones. He doesn't want to lose that, he can't lose that because it's become his reason to keep going here rather than dwell on how things might have turned out in the world they'd left behind.

Maybe he'll take Jyn nad Cassian flowers, he thinks. Bring them some life.

"I think I like the sound of that," Bodhi tells her, glancing around at all the options. "The only problem is, I don't really know where to begin."

"Well, that's what I'm here for," Elsa says. He perks up, she thinks, looking around, and she likes to see it. It's amazing, she's found, the simple joy that a bouquet can give. The right flowers can make a room feel so much more cheerful, so much warmer. She's always rescuing the plants that get damaged; they can't be sold, but they still look lovely in her apartment for however long she can keep them alive.

"Why don't we take a look around and see what you like. What colors do you like?"

"Blue," Bodhi answers immediately.

There's a flash of guilt that comes with saying so, as unreasonable as that may be. Blue had been the color of the uniform he'd worn for so long, the uniform he'd worn because he'd needed a job and he'd wanted to fly and so, taking on the position of a cargo pilot had been good enough when he wasn't qualified for anything else. Blue had been the color of first shirt he thinks he can remember his mother making for him, one he'd grown out of but had been replaced just as quickly. Blue had been the color of Chirrut's eyes, milky but striking, and Bodhi wishes he could see his friend again.

"I don't know what might go well with that," he adds sheepishly, but she's the expert. She doesn't think she'll mind his ignorance in this particular circumstance.

"Blue's my favorite," Elsa says, smiling. She steps out from behind the counter, leaving behind the gloves she wears when she works, and looking around. "We have all sorts of beautiful blue flowers. I like the hydrangeas especially."

As she speaks, she leads him across the room toward a bouquet of blue hydrangeas, clusters of tiny flowers, baby's breath scattered amid them. It's simple, but she thinks it's one of the prettier ones they have set out today. Blue is a conflicting color for her, but it really is her favorite; it just took her time to come around to it, the color of all that ice in the castle she made years ago. "Something like this, maybe? White looks nice with blue. Or purple. We have some very lovely lavender."

Bodhi follows her, drawn by her voice and the grace with which she walks, and smiles softly when she points out the hydrangeas. They're not quite like any flower he's ever seen before, though flowers had been a luxury gift he'd never really been able to justify buying before. The nicer ones, made up of everlillies and blueblossoms and purple passions, had sometimes cost several days' pay of someone higher ranking than himself. Besides that, Bodhi hadn't ever really had a reason to buy a bouquet for anyone aside from the couple times he'd done it for his mother.

"We didn't have these at home," Bodhi tells her, tilting his head as he carefully traces his fingertips over the hydrangeas. "I like this, it's... simple, isn't it? But still beautiful. Maybe I can save the lavender for next time."

"For next time," Elsa agrees, smiling as she watches him with the hydrangeas. He has a light, gentle touch, and she instinctively likes those who are kind to flowers. They're such delicate things, but they bring so much joy. Perhaps he, like her, could use that in his home, some bright spark to help keep everything feeling alive. It's so hard still, some days, without Anna, and no plant could ever replace her sister, but it helps to have them around.

"In my day, we used flowers to send coded messages. Hydrangeas mean perseverance."

For just a moment, Bodhi glances at her, a hint of awe in his expression because he wonders if there's some way she can sense what he's thinking. She seems to touch on every part of him that needs something, anything to hold onto, because waking up is still a struggle. He hasn't been in Darrow long, hardly any time at all since waking up with his face in the sand, and Bodhi is glad to be Jyn and Cassian here but in spite of that, the pain is ever present.

It isn't just the burn still healing on his arm. It's knowing why it's there in the first place, what they'd all left behind, how they'd gotten there. This is a wound that will take time to close, if it ever does at all. Flowers may not be a fast-acting fix, it may not even bring him a great deal of relief, but it does provide what he'd lost in those seconds before the grenade had gone off. Hope.

"Perseverance," Bodhi echoes. "Strength, then." He nods firmly, decision made then. "I'll take them."

It wouldn't have been the first time he'd bought flowers for someone, but somehow, hovering outside and peering nervously through the window, this felt entirely different. Gnawing at the already mangled edge of his thumbnail, he heaved a sigh and stalked inside.

If nothing else, he could say hello to Elsa. Yeah, sure, that was a good enough excuse to be there.

"Hey, stranger," he drawled, standing on the other side of the counter with his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face.

"Hello yourself," Elsa says, brightening. It's been a while — too long, the both of them busy — but it's always good to see Curt. What brings him to the flower shop, she's not sure; she doubts he's come just to see her, though it's not impossible. The reason doesn't matter too much, though. It's nice just to have him here.

"It's good to see you. How've you been?"