Where We Left the Tulips Stelle M. Errand

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╰───► ❛ Art Deco (Allure in Effect). ❜۵
₊⁺⋆ Date: March 5th, 2025| Number of words: 639| Dialogue: #aa5713 ⋆⁺
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Stelle couldn't remember the last time she'd touched the earth with her hands. She'd been so wrapped up in her studies, in the obligations that multiplied like tangled roots, that she'd almost forgotten what the direct sun felt like on her skin, without the castle's glass windows in between. She enjoyed gardening much more than she let on; her house was filled with plants cared for by her parents, who had given her more than one lesson alongside them.

When Ruth invited her to plant tulips by the lake, she wasn't sure why she'd immediately said yes. It wasn't just the fact of planting together; it was the fact of being able to be with her. Her friend's voice, something in her way of saying "Let's plant something together," stirred an old, gentle memory, as if someone had tugged at her childhood sleeve.

She crossed the Hogwarts grounds with calm, almost ceremonial steps, skirting the most traveled paths. In the distance, she saw some students around the greenhouses, laughing and fighting over who had the biggest shovel, but she didn't stop there. Ruth had chosen another spot. A secluded, more intimate place, where the grass grew wild and the lake looked like a mirror ready to hold secrets. She saw her kneeling and concentrating, a tray of seedlings to one side, the wind tousling her hair.

Stelle approached quietly, her hands clasped behind her back and her hair pulled back in a loose braid, barely tamed by a pastel pink ribbon. She was wearing a loose striped shirt that would stain irreparably as soon as it touched the ground, but she didn't seem to care, not today. The sight of Ruth, so focused on her work, brought a warm smile to her face before her friend's soft voice floated in the air like an old flower well stored between the pages of a book. She stopped beside her just as Ruth gave her space, and for a moment she stood, contemplating the tulip buds with a certain reverence. Then he sank to his knees with restrained elegance, letting his old trousers wrinkle in the damp grass without much concern.

—How could I not remember?—. She murmured softly, joining Ruth in that intimate tone reserved only for shared memories. —We ended up with mud on our eyebrows and ears. And you swallowed a bug because you were laughing too loud—.

Stelle's face curved into a wider, almost childlike smile, and her laughter was like a sun-filled sigh.

—Your parents said it was the most disastrous garden they'd ever seen... but that it had character. I took that as a compliment—.

She took one of the seedlings from the tray with the same gentleness Ruth had shown earlier, running her thumb carefully over the intertwined roots. As if she could read something in them. There was something deeply peaceful about the act of planting, that mingling of earth, memory, and possibility.

—I don't know why, but every time I smell this damp earth, I'm reminded of home, and I can't help but miss it. Mom promised to send me an apple pie this week, so I'll give you some when it arrives—.

She carefully buried the sprout in the soil, barely covering it with her fingers. The air was scented with the lake breeze, and the sun seemed softer there, as if it knew it should respect the nostalgia. —Sometimes I think maybe plants do remember us—. she said suddenly, without looking at Ruth. —That when they bloom, they do it a little for us. As if they know we're watching—.

She finally looked up, searching her friend's eyes. They were different from when they were children, but not that much. There was something untouched about them.

—Thank you for inviting me—. she whispered. —I didn't want to be alone today—.

ABILITIES: Part-Veela
VISUAL: Here!
ACTIONS: Meeting up with her friend to plant tulips.
INTERACTIONS + MENTIONS:@Ruth Fairchild

—Remembering through planting.—
𝕽eminiscence.

Ruth did enjoy reminiscing. Not that she was old enough to truly 'reminisce', but when that pang of nostalgia thudded at her chest, it widened her smile and stride. The birds would chirp and sing ballads. The flowers would bloom with each step she took, and the sky would be painted with pink, yellow, and baby blue watercolours.

It was the mere fact that one could never again go to what they were before, or what had happened then, that Ruth loved. As much as she hated the thought of not being able to experience something that could have happened as recently as just a few hours back or as far away as when she was, say, four, it was the significance that Ruth adored. The moral is to treasure every passing moment, because one day you will look back wondering how far you've gone.

How far Ruth and Stelle had gone.

As Stelle joined her side, Ruth took a lingering glance at her figure. She had always admired Stelle's grace, so much like a ballerina that Ruth seemed to have two left feet when standing next to her. Ruth had never minded this, more so enjoyed how different they were, yet how well they got along. That is, until Ruth never saw her again. Until now. Both 12 and counting, crouching side by side, their fingers smudged with wet dirt that clung to their shoes but failed to hinder the subtle smiles on their faces.

Ruth blushed in embarrassment as Stelle piped up about the memory of when they had barely turned the solid age of five. "That was years ago," she sputtered, flushing. "We were much younger back then." But oh! What a jolly mess they had made. She giggled to herself as the look on their parents' faces flashed before her eyes. This was joined by the soft laughter of her childhood friend, a laugh that sent Ruth's heart skipping a beat, a sound so familiar yet foreign. "It did have character," Ruth agreed, hand patting at the soil before scooching a little closer towards Stelle to make room for another seedling. "My mum talks about it sometimes, when Aaron doesn't plant right."

The Hufflepuff held up a tulip seedling to the light, appreciating the coarse lines running down its seed coat. "But we tried again just a year after," Ruth murmured, a rueful smile on her face. "And then we went to get ice cream."

It was quiet for a moment as the two began planting a few more seedlings meticulously. Ruth found the silence comfortable, as it always was with Stelle. There wasn't that sense of urgency to fill the void with mindless chatter as she sometimes did with Aurelia and Pamela. It was just Stelle and Ruth and the tulip seedlings.

Ruth and Stelle.

Stelle and Ruth.

As Stelle began to speak again, Ruth listened. She was never much of a good listener. If she had to choose, Ruth would have opted to be the one chatting away instead. Yet, what was it about Stelle and her collected, wispy voice that made Ruth change her mind? Ruth looked beyond the ground out at the Great Lake, the morning rays casting rippling reflections against the otherwise calm body of water. It was so tranquil.

"I'd quite like that," Ruth said about the apple pie. "I do enjoy eating her pie. It's been a while." It had been so long.

She was about to reach for another seedling when she paused, fingers halting as she processed what Stelle said next. Plants, remembering? It was odd that the first thing Ruth thought of was a vague saying: Places have memories. While not vertabrim, she found herself connecting it to what Stelle had said. Perhaps everything can reminisce after all. Her eyes softened as they met Stelle's gaze, and she answered with a tender smile. "How could I not?" She replied, her voice barely a whisper. "When I saw that we were planting tulips, they made me think of you."

Ruth reached for Stelle's hand, grasping it gently. They were soft and supple, short of calluses, blisters, or flaws. She could only hope the other didn't mind her fingers spreading grime to Stelle's. "I missed you, Stelle." Her eyes grew misty. "It's good to see you again."

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╰───► ❛ Art Deco (Allure in Effect). ❜۵
₊⁺⋆ Date: March 5th, 2025| Number of words: 316| Dialogue: #aa5713 ⋆⁺
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—Do I remind you of tulips?—.she asked sweetly.
Even though she didn't want to admit it, Stelle had always wanted to know what people thought of her without asking. Things like, “What flavor of ice cream do I remind you of?” were strange, but she had this secret need to know.

Ruth was sincere, always had been; she could trust her words. She smiled at her as she took her hands, not caring about the dirt in them. —You always cry when we see each other. Do I make you sad?—. she replied jokingly. She approached her, wiping one of her hands against her skirt before bringing it up to her friend's face.—You'll turn into sissies if you cry a lot, according to my grandmother, although it's important to cry—. she said softly. Her words were meant to be sweet, or something like that, even though she knew her grandmother was a topic that came out of her mouth without thinking.

She took a deep breath and dug a small hole to bury another bulb, gently running her hands through the soil. —I love flowers. Drying them is the best part—.she commented with a soft smile.
The afternoon was warm, the breeze gentle. It was a faint memory of her childhood: the same friend, the same activity, different personalities. She knew perfectly well that she looked different from the Stelle Ruth had known. But she hoped he could at least see that she was still the same young woman. —You don’t know everything that’s happened in the last few months, especially since I always thought you’d be a Gryffindor—.
She still had a long way to go, and would surely change much more over the next few years. That was natural, and it was part of tomorrow. So that afternoon, all she wanted was to be able to enjoy it with her friend.

ABILITIES: Part-Veela
VISUAL: Here!
INTERACTIONS + MENTIONS:@Ruth Fairchild
OCC: Forgive me for being so short. I wanted to answer something and it was really hard. I promise to return to my previous level

—What could have been.—
❝𝕯o I remind you of tulips?"
Ruth wiped the tears from her eyes before they spilled down her cheeks, smiling at Stelle's query. "It's not much about what you remind me of," She replied as she succumbed to the feeling of her childhood friend's tender touch on her cheek, "It's more of the fact that I'm planting tulips again, and it felt wrong to do it without you." The Hufflepuff let out a sheepish giggle at Stelle's remark, leaning into her touch. "I just get emotional, okay?" she retorted with a teasing smile. "Though I do have to stop so that I don't become what your grandmother said, a 'sissy'."

She stood and stretched, gazing out at the tranquility of the lake before watching Stelle pick up the meticulous task once again. It was amusing how tender her childhood friend could be with almost anything. Where Ruth would have run her hands across the soil in mindless pats, the tenderness in Stelle's touch was as though she were caressing a newborn baby. How could she do that? How does she do that? Even after all this time, the answer remained ambiguous.

With a soft sigh, Ruth folded herself back to a crouch and pitched in helping give the seeds a new home. "Drying flowers?" She frowned at the thought. All she could think about when the phrase came to mind was the swift death of plucked common daisies. Ruth used to pick at the daisies that littered the field across from her house back in Bath, placing them in a jar, only for the pristine petals to fade into dark syrup. Unless...That wasn't drying at all? What was so fun about watching petals wilt and frizzle up? About watching the stems of iridiscent green dull into murky brown? Ruth wasn't particularly sure she understood. Oh well. To each their own.

Ruth was still deep in thought on the aspects of drying flowers when Stelle piped up, "You don’t know everything that’s happened in the last few months, especially since I always thought you’d be a Gryffindor." She raised her brows in surprise. "A Gryffindor?" Ruth stared down at her dirt-streaked fingers. She could see the coils of ridges and valleys, made obvious through the dark soil. "I..." Ruth hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to reply. "I didn't know much about Sorting Houses when I first came here. You know, being a muggleborn, and all." She shrugged to herself, grabbing the empty seeds packet and folding it in two. "I thought I'd be in Ravenclaw. Smart. Bookworm. Maybe I just wasn't sensible enough for it, but I don't regret where I am today.

"Gryffindor, though? I don't--I don't think I'm a very brave person. Or ambitious." She paused, tilting her head to watch Stelle again. "But around you, I feel unstoppable. We're unstoppable. You make me a Gryffindor, Stelle."

Without you, I'm just a sodden Hufflepuff.

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