Cabbages and Kings
POSTED ON Dec 30, 2013 23:31:31 GMT -8
Aaron likes this
Post by Deleted on Dec 30, 2013 23:31:31 GMT -8
Why is a raven like a writing desk?
The transition from 'Robin' back to 'Phil' had always unsettled him. Everyone at Camp Midgard knew him as a trickster, was familiar with the concept of Loki's child, and rarely shrieked when confronted with proof of an illusion. Being at home was more difficult. His father disapproved of his illusions (and while his stepbrother John would be more than happy to spar with him, demigod secrecy meant that, to the rest of the family, Phil attended a boarding school. No sparring, just lots of letters to keep in touch).
But the absolute best thing about being in California for the holidays was being able to see him, live, face-to-face, and in person. He sometimes popped up in Robin's illusions, but he hadn't seen his boyfriend since 'Spring Break'. That hadn't been the last time he'd been in California, but between visiting his sister-in-law in the hospital and cooing over his first niece, there hadn't been time to plan a date.
Robin liked to arrive early to his dates, to give himself enough time to double check his illusions. It wasn't safe to venture into the world at large without weapons, and in addition to his zweihander (Barazunbar, 'Redhorn' in the common tongue), he carried a great bow, a full two dozen arrows, and a handful of knives scattered about his person. Barazunbar and his bow (Amradith, or 'young death') held illusion well, and on this occasion they were disguised as a lamp just beside the booth he'd chosen. It was towards the back of the little bistro, a spot easily defended should he be caught by surprise.
The fact that it was also a dimly lit corner, perfectly located for a romantic luncheon, might have had something to do with it, as well. Unlike many booths, this one reached around the entire table, just right for cuddling. No stiff and formal 'this is your side, this is my side' to happen on this date.
With irritation, Robin realized that he was trying to shred one of the flowers on the table. Nerves? Not chance! Excitement, far too much excitement, was the more likely cause. He removed the black-eyed susan, tossing the petals beneath the table to be ignored. He had a few other susans left, to compliment the yellow tulips and sunflower. So much yellow, but, he thought with a slightly besotted grin, the message was valid. Black-eyed susans, for encouragement of affection. Yellow tulip, to show how helplessly in love he was. Sunflower, for adoration. Bound with ivy, for sincerity.
Victorian flower language was both complicated and simple - each flower had a specific message. But when combined, those meanings could change. To the best of his knowledge, none of these changed in this particular grouping. They combined to say, "I am ridiculously, hopelessly in love with you, you adorable man".
He fluffed his remaining flowers, then snatched his hands away. A quick check of his watch said that it was almost time to meet. He smoothed his tie, then waistcoat, and fussed with his cuffs for a moment before striding to the front doors. And if he bounced a little, well, no demigod (regardless of pantheon) could be reliably expected to remain still.
Ensemble
Word Count : 530