Webster Knox (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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gooseberryhigh2018-05-28 12:09 pm
websterknox) wrote in gooseberryhigh2018-05-28 12:09 pm
Entry tags:
a VERY backdated promposal
Who: Gwen and Webster
When: Wednesday after artificing
Where: By the stables
What: Promposal(s)
Warnings: Bees.
Today, Gwen is going outside of her comfort zone. She can’t solve this problem with Lilika, not by talking to anyone else about it. If she even could solve it. If nothing else, she needed to find a way to antagonize Lilika the least, give her as little to work with as possible. That means watching her words, watching her actions. Exhausting, demoralizing in some ways, but Gwen can do it. She can. Ignore that little voice.
First step? Doing something significant for Webster. Webster tended to do a lot for her, and he has been trying to work through the stumbles with her. Her mind turns over and over the idea that she can do this whole….promposal thing herself. For all her joking, it feels a little silly to liken a dance invitation to an actual proposal, but she can manage. It would be an important step, to show that she did appreciate him, even if no one else sees it. Dating an Azurcrest just points out how introverted she really is. It feels as if everyday, he’s pulling her out of her shell, just as she still hung onto that shell pretty tightly.
Fidgeting, she waits for him at the predetermined spot, not thinking about how he’d so easily agreed to it. For her part, she wants to be strategically close to the hives, and also a bit away from other students. She can do a promposal but she is not up to doing so in front of all their classmates. Baby steps. Also, it had taken her a few weeks to figure out how to pull this off. All joking aside, getting the bees to do something in concert isn’t too hard, but getting them to do it in spring with all the flowers blooming is a much more difficult proposition.
Webster has been unsuccessfully looking for the “right” time to prompose to Gwen, but nothing has presenting itself. Something public? It’s not either of their style. After a Quidditch match? Emotions are too variable. Truth be told, he’s been avoiding it. Not because of his feelings for her -- they’ve been steadfast, even in the wake of all the Anon post drama -- but just because he’s nervous.
So, when Gwen asked to meet him at the stables, he decided he just needed to summon his courage and do it. It’s the ideal place for what he’s been considering. He snuck over earlier in the day to set up and now returns showered and sporting a nice button-down. It occurs to him as he approaches that in all the running around and preparing, he’s forgotten why Gwen asked to meet him in the first place.
When he arrives, she smiles, smoothing down the sundress she wore, which should have been a huge tip off, because when did she wear sundresses? A borrowed sundress, as it turns out, because she wants to look nice.
“You made it.” Inane, really, but it is all she can manage. “And...you look nice.” Almost a question, the way she says it, because she’s nervous and that seems to stick in her mind. She immediately goes over and takes both of his hands in hers, as much to hide the fact that she is nervous as anything else. “I wanted to show you something. Or ask. And talk. Okay, both.” With a small smile and a shrug, she tries to downplay her words.
This is just too perfect, Webster thinks when he spots her sundress. An outfit befitting a promposal. He suppresses a gleeful smile, worried it might give away what’s about to happen. He quickly scans the space and confirms that all his props are still where they need to be. He knows he’ll need to act quickly before he chickens out. But then Gwen grabs his hands and tells him she wants to show -- and ask -- him something. Crap.
Webster almost cuts her off. He’s worked up the courage to do this and doesn’t want to miss his chance. Just let her go first, he decides. His promposal can wait one more minute. Plus, it’d be weird to circle back to whatever she wanted to talk about afterwards. His excitement and happiness and nerves bubble to the surface in the form of a smile. “What is it?” he asks.
Letting out a breath, Gwen summons her smile again and starts to tug him over to the far side of the stables. “I was thinking that, maybe I don’t do enough to show you that I care,” she starts, dropping one of his hands so she can lead him around through the grass. “It’s...no, don’t protest,” she stops him, as he opens his mouth to object. “I wanted to do something for you. I know I’m not the most….demonstrative. I’m sorry.”
She winces a little, but it’s lost in the fact that now they have rounded the corner and there is a small cadre of bees waiting just in the clearing beyond. The buzz is a giveaway just before they reach the spot, but the scene is a bit surreal, because the bees are actually moving in concert around a large arrangement of growing flowers and vines that spell out prom complete with question mark. That had taken her from late the evening before and a chunk of the morning before class to get them all arranged; the bees she’d worked with over by the hives where no one else went. Now, it all comes together, and Gwen stops there, letting out the breath she was holding.
“I thought you might like this?” she says, accidentally giving it the inflection of a question. “They are doing….a choreographed dance number.”
Webster is stunned. And silent. After a beat he starts shaking his head and laughing. “Gwen--” he manages, before succumbing to more head shakes and laughs.
Laughter is not what Gwen expects, and she looks between him and the bees, and then back again a bit sheepishly. “Um..” They are whimsical, but at the same time, she is unsure if that’s a good thing or not. Is it too ridiculous? As she is watching, about a quarter the bees slowly lose their interest in the game, and start to wander off, leaving a smaller accompaniment, but the remaining ones cheerfully keep up the dance.
“You’ve really outdone yourself,” he says, still shaking his head. He hasn’t actually given an answer to the question -- the “Prom?” formed by the flowers and vines. It’s not intentional. He’s just too swept up in the moment to realize. The bees! “I can’t believe you actually did this!” She’d promised -- no, threatened? -- to do it over the journals a few weeks ago, but he’d thought she was just kidding. “They’re actually dancing!” he marvels, watching them move in unison.
“Honestly, I just built on some of the things Cecil taught me.” Still, that mostly included interpreting their existing dances, but Gwen found that they could be coaxed into a little song and dance of their own given the right push. The dance isn’t anything significant for information, just a small dance about flowers, but she doesn’t tell Webster that.
Webster takes Gwen by the hand and without explanation, starts leading her back to the other side of the stables.
Confused, she gamely goes along, but glances back at the bees, starting to disperse in earnest now. “You…” she lets the question trail off, not sure how to say you didn’t answer because she’s also wondering if she should let go of the flower spell now that he’s at least seen it. Somehow, the idea that someone will see what she made is a little embarrassing, even though that defeats the whole purpose of her asking him in the first place. Perhaps she should have been a little more public. Or maybe the word spelled out wasn’t that visible and he’d missed it altogether. As they walk away, Gwen finds herself growing a little more sure of that, and inwardly curses her apparently lackluster flower-charming skills. She will have to do something different now. And she is running out of time! “I’m glad you liked it,” she finally says, her mind racing ahead.
They round the corner and Webster brings them to a stop. He turns to Gwen and puts a hand on each shoulder. “Stay here,” he instructs her before rushing off. He starts pulling out instruments that he’d squirrel away earlier. A keyboard. A guitar. Drums. Another guitar. A bass. God, this isn’t as smooth and quick as he thought it’d be when he devised the plan. “Almost there!” he calls over to her.
Gwen’s mouth falls open as Webster darts from space to space, pulling instruments he’d clearly stashed there earlier. She stands awkwardly in the middle of the open area, her eyes following from guitar to drums to another guitar, a growing apprehension that some freshman or maybe just a ton of Azurcrests are going to jump out of the bushes as well and accost her en masse, even as her expression gives way from surprise to bemusement to an open smile. Well, she had said if he jumped out at her with an orchestra, she would murder him, but this was at least only partly there. “Did you…” she starts but she lets that trail off so she can watch it all unfold. Whatever this was, he’d really outdone himself.
Everything now out, Webster stands in front of the un-manned instruments, takes out his wand, and like a conductor, waves it. The instruments jump to life and start playing. He’d taught himself the song the other day, played each part one by one, and charmed the instruments to repeat what he’d done. “One more thing,” he yells back in Gwen’s direction.
One more thing? she mouths, still distracted by the music playing, her eyes going from the instruments to him, inwardly wondering how long he had worked on it all. The music made her jump, but she still smiles, equal parts touched and confused.
He runs over to a rolled up blanket and picnic basket. He picks up the blanket and unfurls it on the ground. Written on it is “PROM?” In this moment, seeing the word, he realizes he never actually answered Gwen’s question. Her spelled-out invitation to prom. His face flushes, embarrassed. He turns back to the blanket and waves his hand. Since she asked him first, he should be the one to answer. “PROM?” disappears and a moment later a new word appears. “YES!”
Standing on the edge of the blanket, Webster turns back to Gwen. “I would love to go to prom with you.” He gestures for her to come join him.
Gwen can’t help it; she bursts out laughing, as the letters dissolve and reform and she realizes the irony that they’d managed to surprise each other with the same question. “We are ridiculous,” she manages, in between giggles. “Did we really just do that?” She shakes her head, marveling at the musical array, not really thinking about how it probably carried a bit and made other students wonder what the hell was going on. She walks over to the blanket, sliding her hand into his outstretched one, still smiling despite the fact that her face is blushing furiously pink. “I was trying to do something for you for once,” she murmured, only mock chiding him, “and you almost beat me to it. Darn Azurcrest.”
“Almost. But I wasn’t quick enough,” he concedes, not at all disappointed. “Leave it to a seeker to juuust get there before me.” He brings her close and starts to sway to the music. “Thank you. It means a lot that you asked me.”
The bees had decided to join them, attracted by the music, but Gwen barely marks them as she slides her hands up to his shoulders, linking her fingers at the nape of his neck. “That was really great,” she concedes, “and now that we’ve both made idiots of ourselves in public, maybe we can just enjoy the picnic.” She punctuates that with a kiss.
When: Wednesday after artificing
Where: By the stables
What: Promposal(s)
Warnings: Bees.
Today, Gwen is going outside of her comfort zone. She can’t solve this problem with Lilika, not by talking to anyone else about it. If she even could solve it. If nothing else, she needed to find a way to antagonize Lilika the least, give her as little to work with as possible. That means watching her words, watching her actions. Exhausting, demoralizing in some ways, but Gwen can do it. She can. Ignore that little voice.
First step? Doing something significant for Webster. Webster tended to do a lot for her, and he has been trying to work through the stumbles with her. Her mind turns over and over the idea that she can do this whole….promposal thing herself. For all her joking, it feels a little silly to liken a dance invitation to an actual proposal, but she can manage. It would be an important step, to show that she did appreciate him, even if no one else sees it. Dating an Azurcrest just points out how introverted she really is. It feels as if everyday, he’s pulling her out of her shell, just as she still hung onto that shell pretty tightly.
Fidgeting, she waits for him at the predetermined spot, not thinking about how he’d so easily agreed to it. For her part, she wants to be strategically close to the hives, and also a bit away from other students. She can do a promposal but she is not up to doing so in front of all their classmates. Baby steps. Also, it had taken her a few weeks to figure out how to pull this off. All joking aside, getting the bees to do something in concert isn’t too hard, but getting them to do it in spring with all the flowers blooming is a much more difficult proposition.
Webster has been unsuccessfully looking for the “right” time to prompose to Gwen, but nothing has presenting itself. Something public? It’s not either of their style. After a Quidditch match? Emotions are too variable. Truth be told, he’s been avoiding it. Not because of his feelings for her -- they’ve been steadfast, even in the wake of all the Anon post drama -- but just because he’s nervous.
So, when Gwen asked to meet him at the stables, he decided he just needed to summon his courage and do it. It’s the ideal place for what he’s been considering. He snuck over earlier in the day to set up and now returns showered and sporting a nice button-down. It occurs to him as he approaches that in all the running around and preparing, he’s forgotten why Gwen asked to meet him in the first place.
When he arrives, she smiles, smoothing down the sundress she wore, which should have been a huge tip off, because when did she wear sundresses? A borrowed sundress, as it turns out, because she wants to look nice.
“You made it.” Inane, really, but it is all she can manage. “And...you look nice.” Almost a question, the way she says it, because she’s nervous and that seems to stick in her mind. She immediately goes over and takes both of his hands in hers, as much to hide the fact that she is nervous as anything else. “I wanted to show you something. Or ask. And talk. Okay, both.” With a small smile and a shrug, she tries to downplay her words.
This is just too perfect, Webster thinks when he spots her sundress. An outfit befitting a promposal. He suppresses a gleeful smile, worried it might give away what’s about to happen. He quickly scans the space and confirms that all his props are still where they need to be. He knows he’ll need to act quickly before he chickens out. But then Gwen grabs his hands and tells him she wants to show -- and ask -- him something. Crap.
Webster almost cuts her off. He’s worked up the courage to do this and doesn’t want to miss his chance. Just let her go first, he decides. His promposal can wait one more minute. Plus, it’d be weird to circle back to whatever she wanted to talk about afterwards. His excitement and happiness and nerves bubble to the surface in the form of a smile. “What is it?” he asks.
Letting out a breath, Gwen summons her smile again and starts to tug him over to the far side of the stables. “I was thinking that, maybe I don’t do enough to show you that I care,” she starts, dropping one of his hands so she can lead him around through the grass. “It’s...no, don’t protest,” she stops him, as he opens his mouth to object. “I wanted to do something for you. I know I’m not the most….demonstrative. I’m sorry.”
She winces a little, but it’s lost in the fact that now they have rounded the corner and there is a small cadre of bees waiting just in the clearing beyond. The buzz is a giveaway just before they reach the spot, but the scene is a bit surreal, because the bees are actually moving in concert around a large arrangement of growing flowers and vines that spell out prom complete with question mark. That had taken her from late the evening before and a chunk of the morning before class to get them all arranged; the bees she’d worked with over by the hives where no one else went. Now, it all comes together, and Gwen stops there, letting out the breath she was holding.
“I thought you might like this?” she says, accidentally giving it the inflection of a question. “They are doing….a choreographed dance number.”
Webster is stunned. And silent. After a beat he starts shaking his head and laughing. “Gwen--” he manages, before succumbing to more head shakes and laughs.
Laughter is not what Gwen expects, and she looks between him and the bees, and then back again a bit sheepishly. “Um..” They are whimsical, but at the same time, she is unsure if that’s a good thing or not. Is it too ridiculous? As she is watching, about a quarter the bees slowly lose their interest in the game, and start to wander off, leaving a smaller accompaniment, but the remaining ones cheerfully keep up the dance.
“You’ve really outdone yourself,” he says, still shaking his head. He hasn’t actually given an answer to the question -- the “Prom?” formed by the flowers and vines. It’s not intentional. He’s just too swept up in the moment to realize. The bees! “I can’t believe you actually did this!” She’d promised -- no, threatened? -- to do it over the journals a few weeks ago, but he’d thought she was just kidding. “They’re actually dancing!” he marvels, watching them move in unison.
“Honestly, I just built on some of the things Cecil taught me.” Still, that mostly included interpreting their existing dances, but Gwen found that they could be coaxed into a little song and dance of their own given the right push. The dance isn’t anything significant for information, just a small dance about flowers, but she doesn’t tell Webster that.
Webster takes Gwen by the hand and without explanation, starts leading her back to the other side of the stables.
Confused, she gamely goes along, but glances back at the bees, starting to disperse in earnest now. “You…” she lets the question trail off, not sure how to say you didn’t answer because she’s also wondering if she should let go of the flower spell now that he’s at least seen it. Somehow, the idea that someone will see what she made is a little embarrassing, even though that defeats the whole purpose of her asking him in the first place. Perhaps she should have been a little more public. Or maybe the word spelled out wasn’t that visible and he’d missed it altogether. As they walk away, Gwen finds herself growing a little more sure of that, and inwardly curses her apparently lackluster flower-charming skills. She will have to do something different now. And she is running out of time! “I’m glad you liked it,” she finally says, her mind racing ahead.
They round the corner and Webster brings them to a stop. He turns to Gwen and puts a hand on each shoulder. “Stay here,” he instructs her before rushing off. He starts pulling out instruments that he’d squirrel away earlier. A keyboard. A guitar. Drums. Another guitar. A bass. God, this isn’t as smooth and quick as he thought it’d be when he devised the plan. “Almost there!” he calls over to her.
Gwen’s mouth falls open as Webster darts from space to space, pulling instruments he’d clearly stashed there earlier. She stands awkwardly in the middle of the open area, her eyes following from guitar to drums to another guitar, a growing apprehension that some freshman or maybe just a ton of Azurcrests are going to jump out of the bushes as well and accost her en masse, even as her expression gives way from surprise to bemusement to an open smile. Well, she had said if he jumped out at her with an orchestra, she would murder him, but this was at least only partly there. “Did you…” she starts but she lets that trail off so she can watch it all unfold. Whatever this was, he’d really outdone himself.
Everything now out, Webster stands in front of the un-manned instruments, takes out his wand, and like a conductor, waves it. The instruments jump to life and start playing. He’d taught himself the song the other day, played each part one by one, and charmed the instruments to repeat what he’d done. “One more thing,” he yells back in Gwen’s direction.
One more thing? she mouths, still distracted by the music playing, her eyes going from the instruments to him, inwardly wondering how long he had worked on it all. The music made her jump, but she still smiles, equal parts touched and confused.
He runs over to a rolled up blanket and picnic basket. He picks up the blanket and unfurls it on the ground. Written on it is “PROM?” In this moment, seeing the word, he realizes he never actually answered Gwen’s question. Her spelled-out invitation to prom. His face flushes, embarrassed. He turns back to the blanket and waves his hand. Since she asked him first, he should be the one to answer. “PROM?” disappears and a moment later a new word appears. “YES!”
Standing on the edge of the blanket, Webster turns back to Gwen. “I would love to go to prom with you.” He gestures for her to come join him.
Gwen can’t help it; she bursts out laughing, as the letters dissolve and reform and she realizes the irony that they’d managed to surprise each other with the same question. “We are ridiculous,” she manages, in between giggles. “Did we really just do that?” She shakes her head, marveling at the musical array, not really thinking about how it probably carried a bit and made other students wonder what the hell was going on. She walks over to the blanket, sliding her hand into his outstretched one, still smiling despite the fact that her face is blushing furiously pink. “I was trying to do something for you for once,” she murmured, only mock chiding him, “and you almost beat me to it. Darn Azurcrest.”
“Almost. But I wasn’t quick enough,” he concedes, not at all disappointed. “Leave it to a seeker to juuust get there before me.” He brings her close and starts to sway to the music. “Thank you. It means a lot that you asked me.”
The bees had decided to join them, attracted by the music, but Gwen barely marks them as she slides her hands up to his shoulders, linking her fingers at the nape of his neck. “That was really great,” she concedes, “and now that we’ve both made idiots of ourselves in public, maybe we can just enjoy the picnic.” She punctuates that with a kiss.