gooseberryhigh | (no subject)

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Who: Wilde & Saira.
When: Shortly after this.
Where: The gardens. :d
What: Prom-related talking, etc.
Warnings: lol.

There are myriad reasons Wilde treasures his stupid skateboard. Today, he's adding the ability to get to the garden before Saira as one of them, even if it means his hair looks extra mussed, his cheeks pink from the wind along the path (presumably).

He needs a moment, but he's not sure he's nervous? He feels something: nerve-y, heart-pounding, softly creeping. It feels like waiting for a test score -- the weird anxiety when you know you've done fine, or as well as you could have, but something inside of you is still preparing to fail.

But that'd be fine. Really.

There's no failure here. ...Unless it was too much, making that freshman approach her at lunch? Wilde had done his best not to look over at her table too much, so she wouldn't have a squad of Junior Ebonhides catch on and watch her open the box, but...

Whatever.

He paces a little between rows of flowers, dropping his backpack haphazardly into the dirt. At least all these fucking plants look good, he thinks -- but he can't help stooping to take a stalk of particularly anemic-looking dittany in his hands, rolling it over in his fingers. Except you. Someone's going to be taking care of you.

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Unlike Wilde, Saira takes her time in getting to the gardens. She isn't, as it turns out, entirely certain what she wants to say. And Saira is a girl who needs a plan. She'd had to leave the cafeteria immediately, before someone could notice or draw attention to her- she is aware that the school is a hotbed of gossips- but for all of her professions at not having feelings, only ambitions, she knows enough about normal human emotion to be aware that running out right away and making Wilde wait without any sort of response would be incredibly cruel. So she'd written to him to meet her, because that had seemed right, and now she needs time to...to try to formulate what her response will actually be.

It's not that she wants to say no. She doesn't. It's just that this is so far afield for her that she's not entirely sure how to say yes. And that's without taking what a monumentally stupid idea saying yes is into account.

There are reasons why she has tried not to engage too closely with most of her classmates. Damn it.

She can only walk so slowly, though, and by the time she gets within sight of her destination she still feels unsure and afloat. Mild sarcasm is a safe refuge, and she laughs a little at the sight of Wilde down in the dirt with the plants, though the laugh isn't unkind.

"I should have known I would find you tending to a sick baby," she says, voice dry. "Have you been neglecting the rest of your charges while growing me a gift, Jonathan?"

Edited (i bought more icons just for this plotline. FEEL SPECIAL.) 2017-05-18 20:45 (UTC)

Wilde glances up at Saira with a half-smile, but his eyes betray more excitement than he realizes.

Because, oh no -- it turns out he definitely is nervous. That's definitely, definitely what that feeling was.

"What do you take me for? I have club serfs to do my bidding," he replies. Still, he takes another moment before rising to his feet. (The dittany really does look sadder than it has any right to, with the potential of so much attention.)

It instantly feels oddly quiet, standing here with Saira, even surrounded by so many sounds: insects, birds, wind, nature.

"...Hi."

Edited (*special* :p) 2017-05-18 20:55 (UTC)

"Hello," Saira replies, more awkward than is her won't. She's avoided awkwardness most of her like by not caring very much what her peers think of her, and now...

She looks down shyly- shyly! - and it's embarrassing, because Saira Raza has never been shy a day in her life. Not once, and now, just because she likes a boy- and oh no. She likes a boy. She likes him, very much. She hadn't been sure until just this moment.

She makes herself look back up, raising her chin a little like she can just defy all her sudden nerves and worry, because now she's certain. Now she knows what she wants.

Saira goes after what she wants. No matter what.

"Yes," she says, very firmly. "My answer is yes, Wilde, I want to be your date."

So much for a half-grin. It's full and unabashed now, in a way that Wilde is usually self-conscious about; he stands still in the moment, beaming at her, and then reels it back in.

"Okay. Uh." A pause, because it doesn't want to be reeled back in at all, and he sounds actually way too excited. "That's cool."

Fuck it. "...That's awesome."

"Cool," Saira says, and then laughs- at Wilde? At herself? At the moment, or just because she feels like laughing? She has no idea. Which is terrifying, or it will be in a minute, she's sure.

So this is what being happy about something that isn't a cold, clinical thing like grades or success feels like.

Something about the laugh is very new, and very sweet. Wilde wouldn't be able to tell you why if asked, but he senses it. He makes a happy little sound of his own, shrugging good-naturedly as if to say I guess this is how I am now. For the moment. It sort of seems like he's never going to stop smiling about this, though? It's so dumb. It's great.

"Do you want to, uh... Take a walk or something?" He asks, taking a step closer. "I could show you around." Maybe ask some questions. Maybe not.

"Yes. Sure. Yes, let's," Saira says, with a half-hearted wince for how inane she sounds. She's never had much use for the gardens. Sure, she takes Herbology, but it's a means to an end. You don't get into any sort of Healer Training program without Herbology.

Suddenly, flowers seem worthwhile.

This is especially great because now he can just segue this into walking her to Astronomy once the lunch hour's up. Strategy. Increased face time.

Wilde's not super shy about his interest in this kind of stuff usually -- being around the plants always calms him down, and he actually gives a fuck about them, etc. But it's a little vulnerable, having Saira here and getting to show her things he cares for, even if he knows it's something he can be proud of. Cocky about, even. Except... He doesn't even want to subtly show off, the way he might if it were someone else.

He leans over to grab his bag and his board, tucking the latter under an arm. He thinks very briefly about offering Saira his hand, but he doesn't want to be presumptuous.

"This is all... Like, group organized and cared for, obviously. Mostly," he says instead, stepping toward her again so they can walk side by side. "But some of these are just mine." Like your flower. "I think I wanna do more work with stuff like growth serums, plant medicine. Maybe get more into Potions."

Saira falls into step with Wilde, though she doesn't follow. Following is not a thing she is willing to do, even if she likes a boy. Still, she looks at the beds, interested in them in a way she has never bothered to be before. "Plant medicine," she repeats, thoughtful. "Do you mean, medicine made with plants, or medicine for plants?" Which, of course she would wonder such a thing.

"For," Wilde specifies, shrugging. "There's a lot more that can go wrong with magical plants and flowers than people realize. Non-magical, too. I mean. Fucking diseases, infestations, whatever."

He could talk about this a lot, but he's not sure how interesting it actually is. He thinks about going into detail about his stupid growth serum, but -- maybe he could just show her, sometime. If she's around.

"I guess I could do like -- consulting. For people that make medicine with plants." He glances down at Saira, giving her a crooked smile.

It's easy to forget how much smaller she is than him, when she often feels larger than life.

Edited (all of the new icons are so cute :d ) 2017-05-19 00:44 (UTC)

"Ah, ah," Saira says, ducking her head, smiling a little to herself. "Do not try to cater to me, Jonathan. Just because my interest is in healing people does not mean I expect yours to be. This is your garden and we are not talking about me."

Edited ( basically none of that have the hijab and it's killing me but) 2017-05-19 00:46 (UTC)

Wilde blushes a little, but barks out a little laugh. "Just trying to sweeten the deal. I'm multi-faceted, Saira."

He says this in a joking way, but he kind of meant it, though. He totally would tell people what the fuck to do in a context like that, and maybe have fun with it; one of the best things in the world is having knowledge that others might not, and then having the opportunity to apply it. It's a motivator.

Thinking of this, he's a little quiet, but good-natured. It's hard to know how to talk about himself in a way that doesn't sound too ... whatever. But she already likes him anyway, right?

"Also, I can talk about you if I want to," he teases, after a moment. "Also, I never said I want to heal people. That's a bonus. I just want to be in demand for knowing my shit." There we go, honesty.

"

Saira tips her head back and laughs at that. It's just so...yeah. Wilde might as well be speaking about her when he says that. I want to be in demand for knowing my shit. That's her deal, or at least part of it.

"I couldn't have put it better myself," she confides. She's in a confiding mood. Which is weird.

Everything is weird. The way that she kind of likes how weird it is, is weird.

It is weird.

It's not like Wilde's never spent time with a girl before. Maybe it's a little familiar, this time when everything seems really perfect -- but Saira's not really like anyone he's ever known before. It's stupid. He's kind of scared of her, but he's kind of not scared of her.

So:

"Hey, um -- can I ask you something?"

Oh. That doesn't seem like a good sign. But Saira doesn't wish to see intimidated or like she's in over her head, so she doesn't let herself twitch.

"You may, " she allows, very very very calm.

Was there a little shift in mood? Maybe?

"It's like, no big deal," Wilde reassures, running his free hand through his hair. He takes a moment to think. "Just -- I guess. Are there things I should know?" Another pause. "To make sure you have... a good time. Like how you don't drink."

He means mostly is this a secret? and could I hold your hand or kiss you? but something about saying those words out loud makes him extremely, embarrassingly bashful when he's supposed to be totally sure of himself.

But --

Saira knows she doesn't have to answer if she doesn't want to, he hopes.

Oh. Oh. Saira may not have any experience in dating or romantic entanglements, but she isn't stupid. She understands what he actually means. It's the Muslim thing, or the strict parents thing, or both. Probably both.

Definitely both.

"I want to be your date," she repeats, slowly- more like she's thinking as she speaks than that she thinks her audience needs her to go slow. "I...know what that entails in theory. Spending the night together, and dancing, and...and maybe more things than that." Ok, she's blushing. She doesn't like that she's blushing. It's clear in the way she rubs a hand across her cheeks, like that will dispell or excuse it. "But I do not know in practice, having never...considered doing this, before. So please be...understanding of that." Which is too many words to say take it slow, but words are a safety net. "And...you should know that my brother will...not be pleased. I think. It is possible that he was only giving me a hard time, but I don't think so." Then again, Kazim might be thrilled to have something to tell on her for.

Wilde lets her finish before nodding slowly, definitively. "Oh, yeah. Totally."

Another little instant where this doesn't feel totally real. The insects are deafening. His gaze loses itself in a shaft of light falling across the path, the heads of so many tiny flowers.

"Like I said, it's... No big deal." Wilde looks at Saira again, the corner of his mouth crooked reassuringly.

"... I just want to make sure it's all..." How the fuck do you even say this? "I care if you're comfortable. Is what I'm trying to say."

He darkens a little at the mention of Kazim, though. That's going to be filed away for later strategizing if necessary.

Edited 2017-05-19 02:33 (UTC)

"I know that," Saira says, very softly. They're nearing the end of the garden. They've barely talked about it. "Jon- Wilde. I know that you do." The use of the surname is pointed every time, a concession or an offering. Now she's using it to show that she cares, too. "I- You know that this is difficult for me. You know that saying anything is difficult for me, is difficult for me. I would not be doing either if I did not know that. And I am grateful for that. I am." She slants a look at his sideways. "Most people would not bother with my discomfort. You are singular, Jonathan Wilde."

That is the nicest thing anyone's ever actually said to Wilde. Like, possibly ever. He doesn't know what to say or how to act.

You are singular is the answer to most of the shit he's secretly insecure about, and worries about, and lets drive half of his public actions. He will probably write it down in his journal later and underline it a million times.

He doesn't say anything, just smiles. Again. They are at the edge of the plot, where things fade off into the rest of gardens proper, then away to the walls of the Greenhouse. Wilde stops, adjusting his bag on his shoulders. He takes a small chance and touches Saira lightly on the elbow -- just for a moment. Like a friend.

"I know. Not..." that I'm anything, but... "You know." He smiles at her still, warmly, shaking his head a little at himself. "Hey -- Can I walk you to Astronomy? Maybe?"

Edited 2017-05-19 02:46 (UTC)

"Yes," Saira says quickly, almost impulsively (though she quickly justifies it to herself; they are both going there, it would be ridiculous not to go together, there's no impulsiveness in her answer, just coming sense.) "You can."

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