fandomtownies | Covent Garden Flowers; Tuesday [12/11].

Astrid has sort of taken her time getting to work that day, a little fascinated by the snow. It wasn't that she was unfamiliar with snow, though she wasn't quite used to it from living mostly in warm climates, but the snow here, the snow today, had that certain glittery to it that just really caught the light, and, therefor, her attention, and it was hard not to be a little enchanted by it.

Even if it hadn't taken long for her to start feeling something else, an unfamiliar thing, spreading through her with a strength that brooked no argument: confidence.

Confidence to the point of derision toward anything else. Because, really, this job was so below someone of her wasted talent. No one here would understand the importance of what they were really getting if they elicited her help in the shop today, an honest-to-goodness Astrid Magnussen, Daughter of Famed Poet Ingrid Magnussen, Daughter of Valkyries original. Honestly, she was doing them a favor, and they should be grateful for the privilege, and for the fact that she was arranging these flowers for them, when she knew all too well how she could just as easy poison them with any number of these plants.

With her art, she created life; with her experience, she could take it, she could...

...blink her eyes a little bit and shake her head slightly as the effects of the snowflake started to fade, and she wondered what the hell had gotten into her just now as she looked down at the tortured stems of some poor flowers she was manhandling into some position that she, apparently, thought was brilliant and no one would truly be able to understand.

Well, that was...different.

Covent Garden is open!