Daisy Dreams PV Greta

───Interactions─── Reducio @Nichlas Forsberg

NORWEGIAN | SWEDISH RUSSIAN | GERMAN | ENGLISH

────Mentions──── Reducio Ella Forsberg

Rays of sun shone down upon the courtyard, bathing it in a warm glow. Shadows shimmied lazily across the cobbled stone as the sun progressed across the sky, lengthening ever so gradually as afternoon went on, teasing at the evening to come. It was a far cry from earlier that day when clouds had dotted the sky, and snow had blanketed the ground. Not natural snow, mind. Greta had wandered into Hogsmeade to find the town square unexpectedly transformed into a winter wonderland beneath the effects of an atmospheric charm. The snowball fight that had ensued had been a wondrous spot of fun, leaving her rosy cheeked and nigh-on breathless. The rest of that morning had been spent enjoying a steaming hot cocoa at the Three Brumstacks pub followed by a perusal of the little village shops into the early afternoon. Altogether a lovely day to kick off their autumn returning visit to Hogswart.

And now...With the day winding down and her energy well spent, Greta had chosen to seek a bit of solitude at the perimeter of the castle's courtyard. Her eventual path would likely take her to the edge of the forest, or at least the lake's shores, but for now, the courtyard would suffice. Even here, so close to the walls of brick and mortar, there was plenty to forage through. Little bushes and pockets of grass hid small flowers, twigs, and bugs. She wasn't wholly familiar with the fauna and flora native to the United Kingdoms, but that wouldn't stop her. At the end of the summer camp, her pockets had been stuffed with leaves and flowers, pebbles and insects, all for the purpose of comparing them to the ingredients they had at home for potion making and seeing if any of them might serve as suitable alternatives. Now, with a little bit of added knowledge, it was round two.

A crunch of gravel on stone behind heralded footsteps of someone or other. She paid it little mind. With the excursion to Hogsmeade, students had been coming and going all day. Herself among them. Footsteps abounded, with the traffic through the courtyard. Not to mention those others with whom she shared the space, such as the group nearby playing gobstones, the coupled pairs idling conspiratorially on the benches, or those others who visited or read or did whatever it was that a visit into the sun had bade them do.

No, it wasn't until a voice spoke up that Greta paid that telltale sound of stone being ground underfoot any mind. Once it spoke, however, she froze, hand stuck with slender fingers curled gingerly about the stem of a bluebell flower. There was no mistaking that voice. Calmly authoritative, it carried itself with an easy confidence. Eerily mellifluous, it stirred her heart as the wind tousled her hair. Like a rabbit caught in a snare, his words coiled about her attention, forcing her to abandon focus on anything but he. She could feel his eyes upon her then, the shadow of his aura striking forward to bath her in a chill that set her hairs to stand on end and her pulse to thrum an erratic beat within her ears. For a moment, she might have sworn the very sun had been blotted from existence.

Mouth parched, her chest rose suddenly with the heavy inhale of a breath she'd evidently forgotten to take when his presence had been realized. She didn't dare turn around lest she find her ears had played tricks on her; but neither could she bring herself to ignore the unspoken command to heed him. Like a fly to honey, she turned, large eyes--naive with fantasy--peering up at him below a fan of long blonde lashes. For the picture that met her gaze, it may as well have been naught but a mirage for how perfect he appeared. While he may have been clad in the onyx and crimson of their school, fur-lined coat clasped to hang over one shoulder; it wasn't a boy, but a prince, that stood before her.

"M-my time is here. Yours. My.. my time is yours," Greta heard herself breathe, feeling rather faint as she somehow found her way to her feet and helplessly fumbled her words.

Grass and dirt clung to the spots of her dress where she'd been kneeling and the basket of herbs and questionable components lay forgotten nearby. If she'd been in a mind to be able to process more than the fact that Nichlas Forsberg was standing in front of her, requesting her time, she might have been embarrassed of her appearance. Or at the very least, skeptical of why he wanted her time. Instead, a letter presented itself to her by means of gloved hand, and she took it without thinking, holding it as though it were an ancient manuscript recently excavated and liable to crumble at the barest touch.

"Invite... me...?" Her words echoed distantly, laced with confusion.

Prompted to open the letter for further clarification, she read its contents. Or tried to, getting only to the second line before she had to start again, certain she had misread something. Her eyes moved slowly--far more slowly than was reasonable--through its contents, her mind molasses as comprehension refused to dawn. With every read through, her cheeks flushed ever deeper until finally it felt as though her ears were burning and she wished nothing more than to be swallowed up by the stone upon which she stood. Or assumed she stood. She hadn't fallen (not onto the cobble, at least), but neither could she feel her legs which had utterly and thoroughly turned to jelly. For it wasn't merely a letter concealed within that letter.

Into her hand had fallen two other items. Her ribbon she recognized immediately, feeling momentarily crest-fallen. She knew it would be returned to her eventually; that was how it worked when a token was given for luck. Part of her, however, had hoped he would feel compelled to keep it, unwilling to relinquish it back to her. But that was before she'd noticed the modification of the daisy sewn into the end. And that wasn't all. Alongside it had fallen one other thing. In the palm of her hand beneath the scrutiny of her dumb-founded expression, rested a matching daisy pendant upon a fine silver chain.

"For... for me?" Lips had parted in awe, her face aflame all over again as she swept doe-like seafoam eyes up to search the countenance of the prince before her. Was this real? Had he really just gifted her a necklace? A daisy necklace? Girlish notions and wishful thinking rebelled within her chest. A bit obsessed with tales of princes and princesses and the symbolism contained there-in, she was only too familiar with what it meant to receive a daisy. But he wouldn't, she had to tell herself. It doesn't mean anything, the voice in the back of her mind warned as she teetered on the spot. She didn't know what to say. Or how to thank him. Or really, how to respond at all. Her gaze darted between the gift and the letter, then up to Nichlas. Then back to the letter and the necklace again.

He was waiting for an answer, she knew. She had to give him an answer. She was being rude, making him wait on her. But was this really okay? Did he mean it? She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But would Ella approve? Would she spoil everything? Could Greta actually accept? Question after question posited itself within her thoughts, her mind circling and spiraling, threatening to short circuit. She should say no. She should respect what she knew Ella would think of it. She had pushed her fortune enough asking Niche to 'escort' them to the Blossom Ball, lucking out when Ella had found herself an actual companion that had left Greta innocently in the care of Niche. Greta should decline. She couldn't say yes. She couldn't say it. Should couldn't say..

"Yes.." she whispered. "Yes, I will go with you."

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Nichlas smiled at her response and perhaps it was a little morbid but a thought would not leave his head throughout the interaction that followed. Ella would hunt him down if she knew. She had been acting up, meeting boys and starting to get rebellious even towards their parents. It was troublesome, especially considering there were still a lot questions about what happened a year ago. Someone had broken in his little sister's room, rummaged through her things and had possibly taken something. How was he to know? He would have to keep her safe, shelter her from any bad influences which included young boys, she didn't know better and so he had to make it his task. Boys, they were bad news, just as he was likely bad news for Greta. He wouldn't be good for her, she was too delicate and he was undeserving of her sweet personality. But he smiled, a charming smile with a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. But there was more, there was no denying his true personality, the person he had become throughout the years. The wear of their school and other influences apparent in the way he talked, the way he stood and acted. But he did care.

He had known her for years, of course he cared for the girl. Whether it was of platonic or romantic origin he couldn't tell yet, it was too early to tell. He couldn't deny at this point, that he had felt anger towards the foreign student from America. He had hit him out the sky without remorse and truly had a rotten core. He was no good and he knew it, Ella would be mad at him and half of him had hoped that Greta would deny him his request, move on with her life without getting involved in such sibling quarrels. Nichlas was by far no easy person and she knew it, yet her face and her actions would light up in his presence and the timid girl transformed into a fair young lady with rosy cheeks.

"I am honored then," he responded as he quietly held out his hand, palm open to receive the necklace back from her, even just momentarily. "Let me help you put it on ," he offered to her, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He would be a liar if he denied being happy with her response, nor would he be honest if he were to say he was not looking forward to spending evening with Greta as his ball date. Her presence seemed so unlike his own, able to calm even his predatory senses from time to time, enough to show signs of a side he had long forgotten.