PINK CARNATIONS
THE GOLDEN HALLS OF ASGARD REFLECT OLIVIA AND LOKI BACK AT THEM AS THEY WANDER THROUGH. Their voices echo off the high ceilings, reflecting the light tones of laughter.
“I mean, what were they gonna do? Suspend me for being stolen from?” Olivia challenges, a wide smile spread across her face. Loki chuckles again, grinning widely.
“How did he not notice the pepper?” he wonders. She grows a touch more smug, and leans towards him just slightly in excitement.
“That’s the best part,” she explains. “I ground it up and mixed it into the peanut butter.” Loki laughs again, cringing a little with disgust this time.
“That must have been absolutely atrocious,” he muses, delighted. She nods, laughing along with him.
“I had never seen anybody’s face change color that fast before,” she agrees. Their laughter dies down, and soon the only sound echoing off the walls is that of their own footsteps.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Loki starts, catching Olivia’s curious attention, “how did you get into botany in the first place?” She shrugs thoughtfully.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I guess I just heard that there were different kinds of flowers and trees and got excited. I probably asked my parents about it, I think; one of my early memories is talking about flowers with my dad.” He hums, mulling it over for a second.
“In that case,” he decides, “I know somewhere you might like.” She hums curiously, offering a half-smile.
“Lead the way,” she offers, gesturing to the hall in front of them. He steps ahead, leading her deeper into the palace.
“I… used to spend a lot of time here,” he admits. “It’s one of the few places in the palace to get any real quiet.”
“Sounds nice,” Olivia comments idly. They fall into a silence for a moment, as Loki approaches a pair of doors.
“Here they are,” he introduces, pushing open the doors with the most dramatic flourish Olivia has ever seen. A proud grin has crept up onto his face. “The palace gardens.”
Olivia doesn’t bother to hide the awe on her face as she steps in.
The gardens are magnificent; sprawls of flowers and trees and ponds almost as far as she can see. A slightly overgrown stone path winds its way through, though there are a lot of obvious footpaths winding off of it.
“Holy shit,” she breathes, eloquent as ever. “This is so cool.” Her eyes flit around, not even sure where to start. Loki can’t help the small, self-satisfied smile that forms on his face at that.
She starts along the path, leaning down a little to look at the flowers along the way. Loki follows her, entertained by her fascination.
“These are cornflowers,” she points out, leaning down next to a spattering of flowers in colors ranging from white to pink to purple and blue.
She pushes forward to another group of flowers. “Chrysanthemums,” she claims, an approving air to her voice. “You’ve got all the varieties; I really like those ones.” She points to a puffy white one. She turns around.
“You know a lot about flowers,” Loki muses quietly. She shakes her head.
“Not really,” she disagrees. “I don’t know how to grow them or anything; just what they are and what they mean.” Loki looks at her with keen interest now.
“What they mean?” he repeats curiously. “Is this some Midgardian custom I’ve never heard of?” She nods, drifting over to one of the intricately-carved marble benches to sit down.
“Yeah; a long time ago, some people came up with different meanings for different flowers so they could send each other secret messages. People still use it when they get each other flowers,” she answers, looking around at the garden, still a little overwhelmed.
“That’s… fascinating, actually,” he admits. “Where did you learn it?” She shrugs.
“My parents got me this book about it when I was younger. I still use it to check myself, but I’m pretty much always right anyways,” she replies, as though it were of little consequence.
“Alright,” he hums. “What about the chrysanthemums?” She looks at him, smiling lightly.
“What color?” she prompts. He considers it for a moment.
“The white ones you like,” he decides. “What do those mean?” She nods, not skipping a beat.
“They mean truth,” she informs him. He nods slowly, absorbing that.
“What about the others?” he inquires, still curious. She stands from the bench, wandering back over to the chrysanthemums.
“Well,” she sighs, “the yellow ones mean slighted love,” she points out, “and the red ones mean ‘I love you’.” She pulls herself back to her full height. “I don’t know for sure about the others though, they weren’t in my book.”
“Fascinating,” Loki whispers to himself. “What about the other flowers?”
“Well,” she sighs, turning towards the wider garden. She makes her way to the next flowers, kneeling next to them. “These are carnations, personal favorite of mine. The pink ones mean ‘I’ll Never Forget You’.” Loki walks over and kneels next to her to get a closer look.
“Mmhmm,” he nods.
“Um,” she thinks for a second, shifting away just a touch. “If you want a yes or no answer, solid color carnations are a yes, and stripes are a no.”
“So, if I were to ask you to tell me more about flowers,” he starts slowly.
“I would give you a solid purple flower,” she finishes. He peers at her, with interest.
“Purple? What’s purple?” he wonders, a little impatiently. She chuckles quietly.
“I’m getting there,” she assures him. “Purple is capriciousness. So, a solid purple would probably mean less of a solid yes and more of a… yes, but I might change my mind later.” He nods slowly, absorbing that.
“And the others?” he prompts, glancing back at the other carnation colors. Olivia turns her attention back to them, pointing at each as she explains it.
“Red is admiration, and the white ones are like… sweetness, innocence, pure love,” she rattles off. “Um, on the other hand, yellow ones mean rejection, and that the giver is disappointed in the receiver.”
“This is very fascinating,” he mumbles to himself. “Why do we not have any books on the subject in our library?” She frowns a little.
“It’s… a little old-fashioned,” she admits. “Mostly just flower enthusiasts bother to learn it now.” Loki’s brows furrow a little.
“I can’t imagine why,” he mutters, not the slightest trace of sarcasm in his tone. Olivia smiles lightly.
“Probably why you’re my soulmate,” she jokes, lightly bumping his elbow with hers. He chuckles a little, a small smile on his face. She rises first, brushing the dirt off the knees of her jeans and holding out a hand for Loki.
He doesn’t need it, but he takes it anyways, letting her help him rise to his feet.
“Hey,” she marvels, pointing to a bush of black roses. “Are those real?” He looks between her and the bush with amusement. All of that impressing him she just did and now she’s asking if the rose bush is real?
“I would certainly hope so,” he bites back with amusement. “It is a garden, after all.” She smiles briefly, but shakes her head.
“No, no; what I mean is, are those really black? We don’t have black roses on Earth,” she clarifies. He hums curiously.
“Is that so,” he notes. “Well, I can assure you, they are very real black roses. The gardeners don’t paint them in the night.” She chuckles, grinning.
“No, no, I can’t imagine anyone painting roses,” she muses, mostly to herself. “What kind of silly kid would do that?” He gets the feeling he’s missing a joke, but lets it go.
“Do they mean anything?” he hums. “Well; I suppose they wouldn’t, if you don’t have them on Midgard.” She shakes her head.
“I think they do,” she disagrees, “but I don’t know what it is. Not in my book. They’re very fitting for October, though.” His brows furrow in confusion.
“What? What’s special about October?” he wonders. She smiles lightly.
“Halloween is next week,” she informs him. “I’ll see if I can pick up a book about the origins of Halloween before then; do you wanna watch Halloween movies with me, day-of?” He’s still confused, but eventually nods.
“…sure,” he agrees. “I don’t know what Halloween is, but I’m sure you’ll explain.” She nods.
“Sounds like a plan,” she agrees. “For now, though; do you have any more flowers here that we don’t?” He grins.
“Well, I’m certain we could find out,” he offers. As they resume their walk through the palace gardens, neither of them notices that their hands are still locked together.
Or at least, if they do notice, nobody says anything.