Post by Rister Graas S6 on Oct 14, 2008 15:14:12 GMT -5
Rister pushed open the store door and was immediately assaulted by humidity, the rich smell of fertilised soil, and mixing fragrances spread by numerous flowers. Suppressing a shudder – this many smells in such a small room was a bit overbearing – Rister stepped in and let the door slide closed behind him with a melodic ding. His eagle-owl, currently perched on his shoulder, let out a displeased hoot and Rister absently raised a hand to stroke the proud bird’s chest as he looked around. It was Thursday evening and nearing closing time so he was the only customer around. Even he shouldn’t be here today, but this was hardly the first time he had left Hogwarts out of turn. It most surely wouldn’t be the last time either. Though he usually didn’t visit flower-stores when he ventured out of Hogwarts. “Mr. Graas,” the store-keeper greeted her with a polite smile ad Rister returned the greeting with a polite but curt nod. “We have your order in the back. If you’d wait a moment, we will present it to you.” “Of course,” Rister responded and the woman retreated to go fetch the flowers he had ordered the previous day via an owl.
Rister himself strolled towards the counter with the cashier, absently looking around the store. It wasn’t a large store, but it offered discrete service and quality, so it was very well off. The Cartier of flowers. It was a matter of prestige to buy one’s flowers here and also a matter of what one could afford. For a moment, Rister had considered whether the store was appropriate for his purpose. But he had decided to go for it. Charisse Garwin would know well enough that he was a multimillionaire, he didn’t really know any other flower stores, and quite frankly he wasn’t going to hide or change who he was. He had always shopped in BeLina’s flower store or its equivalents in other countries. A flower was a flower and the bill would have to reach tens of thousands for him to have to make a note of it. Reaching the counter, Rister let his eyes lazily glide over the offered accessories. A sewn bee caught his eyes and one of his lip-corners crooked upwards in an amused smirk. It was a well-made bee, of golden and black satin, the wings of the small toy shimmering pleasantly. Rister absently pushed the tiny hanging decoration to swing with the tip of his finger and observed with surprised amusement as the bee’s wings started beating in imitation of flight. “The wings are covered with diamond dust, which adds to the shine. To your pleasing perhaps?” the woman had returned. Diamond dust. The wings were too small to hold a significant amount of it and diamond dust received at polishing the stones wasn’t worth much. “It is,” Rister agreed lightly as he turned back to the woman, who placed a large basked on the counter for him to inspect.
The basket itself was pretty, weaved in a slightly old-fashioned style so it seemed as if it had a leg it stood on that then widened into a oval with the upper edge of it slightly turned in and a wide arch of a decorative handle topping it off. The basket had been charmed to be both water and breaking proof and inside the basket he had demanded planted flowers rather than the more regular cut ones. “167 blooms of windflowers and 93 liverleaf blossoms. The soil they are planted in was thoroughly fertilized so that indoors the flowers will bloom for approximately three weeks. A charm was also added to have dewdrops appear on the blossoms every morning. After the three weeks are over, the plants will not wither and if looked after properly will blossom approximately twice a year,” the woman introduced the basket quietly as Rister peered at it. The choice of flowers had given him pause for a moment. Roses wouldn’t be appreciated, orchids and similar flowers wouldn’t suit a young girl and so he had finally settled on windflowers and liverleaves. Both were gentle and simple flowers that could be found easily enough, presented strength and beauty in their essence and would be acceptable to both Rosalind and her parents. And the nearly wild mixture of white and blue petals was charming. The basket was finely made and modest and while it would have to be carried in two arms, it would fit on a window-sill. At least Rister thought so but then again he lived in a castle so the Garwins might have differently measured window-sills.
“Add one of the bees to hang from the arch,” Rister commanded with an approving nod to the basket, “And I believe you have paper and a quill to add a note?” “The selection is to your right,” the woman responded, gesturing to the appropriate display before picking up the bee and starting to work on attaching it to the basket. Rister peered at the display of papers and picked out the simplest small white envelop with a slip of white paper in it. Twirling a sleek black quill he picked up from the counter between his fingers, Rister pondered for a moment. Nothing much as he was just a random fellow for Rosalind still but something suitable. Well, there was no reason to make things more complicated than they were.
Happy Birthday, Fair Rosalind.
- Rister Mordred Graas
Simple but to the point and polite. Closing the envelope Rister considered for a moment, but then smirked. Well, why not. Charisse Garwin would know who was sending her young daughter flowers anyway and Rosa might get a kick out of it. Fishing out his wand from his sleeve, Rister pointed it to his signet ring and muttered a quick charm before pressing the engraved family crest on the ring onto the envelope as a seal. A formal acknowledgement from the heir of Graas family that would consist in itself the good wishes of the family-tree. Not that most of the family tree would even know of Rosa’s existence, but none of them would cause any trouble upon the sight of the heir’s crest Rister wore.
Handing the sealed note to the woman, Rister watched impassively as it was attached securely to the basket. The final picture was good. Classy, simplistic but beautiful with a touch of witty laughter added in the shape of bee now dangling from the basket. Rister signed the bill for his order with flourish, not even batting an eye at the final cost – 112 galleons. Well, apparently BeLian’s valued their bees with diamond-dust on their wings. Besides he didn’t think Rosalind had received many flowers in her life from people not related to her and first flowers were important. It wouldn’t hurt for her to set high standards for guys either. Accepting the basket with a polite nod, Rister left the store after the required pleasantries and paused on the street. “Rosalind Garwin,” Rister told his eagle-owl commandingly, as the bird took flight and grasped the arch of the basket between her claws. If the basket hadn’t been charmed, an owl could hardly deliver it, but now it would just be a relative discomfort for his eagle-owl. Well, at least his bird was smart and big so the weigh of the basket wouldn’t cause a problem. “Be slow and careful. I don’t want any of the flowers damaged by the time they reach their recipient and behave nicely. No biting anyone.” The owl hooted with obvious dislike, as she could be as moody as Rister himself. Rister usually didn’t use her for such work as delivering flowers either, usually having stores do the delivering themselves, but Rosalind was a child and thereby received a slightly warmer touch than random occasionas Rister had to send flowers on at times. Rister stroked the eagle-owl’s face next to her beak where she liked to be patted and then the owl took off as Rister himself turned to return to Apparition point in order to return to Hogsmeade and from there to Hogwarts.
Rister himself strolled towards the counter with the cashier, absently looking around the store. It wasn’t a large store, but it offered discrete service and quality, so it was very well off. The Cartier of flowers. It was a matter of prestige to buy one’s flowers here and also a matter of what one could afford. For a moment, Rister had considered whether the store was appropriate for his purpose. But he had decided to go for it. Charisse Garwin would know well enough that he was a multimillionaire, he didn’t really know any other flower stores, and quite frankly he wasn’t going to hide or change who he was. He had always shopped in BeLina’s flower store or its equivalents in other countries. A flower was a flower and the bill would have to reach tens of thousands for him to have to make a note of it. Reaching the counter, Rister let his eyes lazily glide over the offered accessories. A sewn bee caught his eyes and one of his lip-corners crooked upwards in an amused smirk. It was a well-made bee, of golden and black satin, the wings of the small toy shimmering pleasantly. Rister absently pushed the tiny hanging decoration to swing with the tip of his finger and observed with surprised amusement as the bee’s wings started beating in imitation of flight. “The wings are covered with diamond dust, which adds to the shine. To your pleasing perhaps?” the woman had returned. Diamond dust. The wings were too small to hold a significant amount of it and diamond dust received at polishing the stones wasn’t worth much. “It is,” Rister agreed lightly as he turned back to the woman, who placed a large basked on the counter for him to inspect.
The basket itself was pretty, weaved in a slightly old-fashioned style so it seemed as if it had a leg it stood on that then widened into a oval with the upper edge of it slightly turned in and a wide arch of a decorative handle topping it off. The basket had been charmed to be both water and breaking proof and inside the basket he had demanded planted flowers rather than the more regular cut ones. “167 blooms of windflowers and 93 liverleaf blossoms. The soil they are planted in was thoroughly fertilized so that indoors the flowers will bloom for approximately three weeks. A charm was also added to have dewdrops appear on the blossoms every morning. After the three weeks are over, the plants will not wither and if looked after properly will blossom approximately twice a year,” the woman introduced the basket quietly as Rister peered at it. The choice of flowers had given him pause for a moment. Roses wouldn’t be appreciated, orchids and similar flowers wouldn’t suit a young girl and so he had finally settled on windflowers and liverleaves. Both were gentle and simple flowers that could be found easily enough, presented strength and beauty in their essence and would be acceptable to both Rosalind and her parents. And the nearly wild mixture of white and blue petals was charming. The basket was finely made and modest and while it would have to be carried in two arms, it would fit on a window-sill. At least Rister thought so but then again he lived in a castle so the Garwins might have differently measured window-sills.
“Add one of the bees to hang from the arch,” Rister commanded with an approving nod to the basket, “And I believe you have paper and a quill to add a note?” “The selection is to your right,” the woman responded, gesturing to the appropriate display before picking up the bee and starting to work on attaching it to the basket. Rister peered at the display of papers and picked out the simplest small white envelop with a slip of white paper in it. Twirling a sleek black quill he picked up from the counter between his fingers, Rister pondered for a moment. Nothing much as he was just a random fellow for Rosalind still but something suitable. Well, there was no reason to make things more complicated than they were.
Happy Birthday, Fair Rosalind.
- Rister Mordred Graas
Simple but to the point and polite. Closing the envelope Rister considered for a moment, but then smirked. Well, why not. Charisse Garwin would know who was sending her young daughter flowers anyway and Rosa might get a kick out of it. Fishing out his wand from his sleeve, Rister pointed it to his signet ring and muttered a quick charm before pressing the engraved family crest on the ring onto the envelope as a seal. A formal acknowledgement from the heir of Graas family that would consist in itself the good wishes of the family-tree. Not that most of the family tree would even know of Rosa’s existence, but none of them would cause any trouble upon the sight of the heir’s crest Rister wore.
Handing the sealed note to the woman, Rister watched impassively as it was attached securely to the basket. The final picture was good. Classy, simplistic but beautiful with a touch of witty laughter added in the shape of bee now dangling from the basket. Rister signed the bill for his order with flourish, not even batting an eye at the final cost – 112 galleons. Well, apparently BeLian’s valued their bees with diamond-dust on their wings. Besides he didn’t think Rosalind had received many flowers in her life from people not related to her and first flowers were important. It wouldn’t hurt for her to set high standards for guys either. Accepting the basket with a polite nod, Rister left the store after the required pleasantries and paused on the street. “Rosalind Garwin,” Rister told his eagle-owl commandingly, as the bird took flight and grasped the arch of the basket between her claws. If the basket hadn’t been charmed, an owl could hardly deliver it, but now it would just be a relative discomfort for his eagle-owl. Well, at least his bird was smart and big so the weigh of the basket wouldn’t cause a problem. “Be slow and careful. I don’t want any of the flowers damaged by the time they reach their recipient and behave nicely. No biting anyone.” The owl hooted with obvious dislike, as she could be as moody as Rister himself. Rister usually didn’t use her for such work as delivering flowers either, usually having stores do the delivering themselves, but Rosalind was a child and thereby received a slightly warmer touch than random occasionas Rister had to send flowers on at times. Rister stroked the eagle-owl’s face next to her beak where she liked to be patted and then the owl took off as Rister himself turned to return to Apparition point in order to return to Hogsmeade and from there to Hogwarts.