Astrid Magnussen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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fandomtownies2020-06-09 07:03 am
white_oleander) wrote in fandomtownies2020-06-09 07:03 am
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Covent Garden Flowers; Tuesday [06/09].
Astrid had spent more of her morning feeling a bit nervous yet proud yet also dreading the fact that, after her class and before she headed into work, she'd be stopping by the post office to drop that letter, that cut-up poetry, in the mail to send to Ingrid, shipping her own words right back to her. She should have just done it first thing in the morning; it wasn't like she didn't have the time, which meant that the letter weighed like an anchor on her heart, settling in the pit of her stomach, making her doubt herself and second guess whether it was ridiculous or stupid or...
No. She had to do it. She would send it to Ingrid, it was well overdue for her to know how Astrid felt, and the only way she would ever hear was if it was in her own words. Ingrid didn't care about the words of others, but if Astrid used Ingrid's own words, then maybe...just maybe...she would listen.
She was hoping that dropping off the letter would lift the dread from her shoulders, but it honestly made things worse, now that there was no turning back. But it also strengthened her. There was no turning back. This was it. Only forward from now.
She took to fussing over the tea and fussing over trimming in a way to attempt to distract herself, but it wasn't working. And the poor orchid with its guitar seemed to want to help by playing for her, but he started playing "Sisters of Mercy" and she winced.
"No," she said, softly, but firmly, shaking her head at the orchid. "No Cohen."
So it went quiet for a moment, as if it was thinking, before it started plucking the tune of something else that Astrid didn't recognize, probably something from well after her time, but she liked it, so she nodded her approval and got back to work. It was much more suited to the orchid's own style, anyway.
Covent Garden is open!
No. She had to do it. She would send it to Ingrid, it was well overdue for her to know how Astrid felt, and the only way she would ever hear was if it was in her own words. Ingrid didn't care about the words of others, but if Astrid used Ingrid's own words, then maybe...just maybe...she would listen.
She was hoping that dropping off the letter would lift the dread from her shoulders, but it honestly made things worse, now that there was no turning back. But it also strengthened her. There was no turning back. This was it. Only forward from now.
She took to fussing over the tea and fussing over trimming in a way to attempt to distract herself, but it wasn't working. And the poor orchid with its guitar seemed to want to help by playing for her, but he started playing "Sisters of Mercy" and she winced.
"No," she said, softly, but firmly, shaking her head at the orchid. "No Cohen."
So it went quiet for a moment, as if it was thinking, before it started plucking the tune of something else that Astrid didn't recognize, probably something from well after her time, but she liked it, so she nodded her approval and got back to work. It was much more suited to the orchid's own style, anyway.
Covent Garden is open!