[ One morning in December after Claude's slipped out of bed to leave its slumbering occupant(s) behind, some packages will appear at the foot of Hilda's bed. They aren't easy to miss in their bright wrapping paper of pinks and deep reds with sparkles engrained within the paper and the ribbons around it all.
When picked up, the first box might make a small noise like glass clinking together. Which is fitting considering what it contains: various vials of different flowers preserved in oils, with what's in them being a variety of highly scented ones from around Abraxas. There's ones from the Free Cities, ones from Solvunn, and quite a few from Nocwich - all which were cultivated in their own rooftop garden amidst Claude's other plants. Along with those are empty perfume bottles should Hilda like to try creating her own.
The next package is a box which when opened contains a couple of finely bound journals and sketchbooks in different sizes, including one small enough to be slipped into a pocket for quick notes and ones large enough for detailed plans to be drawn with room for notes. A set of stationary also awaits, and a set of crystal-handled wax stamps embossed with her initials for any and all notes or letters she might like to send.
But what awaits atop it all is a blown glass transparent and lightly tinted pink vase, and what's in it isn't flowers. Instead it's bundles of pencils, markers, charcoals, pastels, and pencils; each have been separated out by colors and bound together, and each splayed slightly to resemble flowers as they form a rainbow of blooms of different heights and sizes within. Green ribbons curl around the base of each and spill out of the vase in the illusion of leaves.
At the base of it rests an envelope with Hilda's name on it, and a letter inside:
Hilda—
I don't think there will ever be enough words for what this year has been. For what it's meant, through all of the lowest times and the far better ones, and for the fact that at the end of it all I find you still here all the same. Something that which I'm not always convinced I deserve, but something I'll strive to make it certain that I do.
There was a long time in my life before I met you that I'd convinced myself of that being alone would be worth it if it meant accomplishing what I'd set out to do. I meant to keep to that because I'd told myself over and over it was easier. To say that you changed that is an understatement of the highest degree, and there's no more picturing doing any of those things on my own. Not for years now, and hopefully not for the years to come.
In the meantime, at least, there's this as a fraction of what you deserve and more. And the more - that I intend to deliver on yet.
—Claude.
In addition to that, when Hilda walks into her bathroom next she'll find a basket full of freshly laundered towels, her robes the same, and a vibrantly flowering desert flower in the window. Just because. ]
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— very backdated december gift delivery
When picked up, the first box might make a small noise like glass clinking together. Which is fitting considering what it contains: various vials of different flowers preserved in oils, with what's in them being a variety of highly scented ones from around Abraxas. There's ones from the Free Cities, ones from Solvunn, and quite a few from Nocwich - all which were cultivated in their own rooftop garden amidst Claude's other plants. Along with those are empty perfume bottles should Hilda like to try creating her own.
The next package is a box which when opened contains a couple of finely bound journals and sketchbooks in different sizes, including one small enough to be slipped into a pocket for quick notes and ones large enough for detailed plans to be drawn with room for notes. A set of stationary also awaits, and a set of crystal-handled wax stamps embossed with her initials for any and all notes or letters she might like to send.
But what awaits atop it all is a blown glass transparent and lightly tinted pink vase, and what's in it isn't flowers. Instead it's bundles of pencils, markers, charcoals, pastels, and pencils; each have been separated out by colors and bound together, and each splayed slightly to resemble flowers as they form a rainbow of blooms of different heights and sizes within. Green ribbons curl around the base of each and spill out of the vase in the illusion of leaves.
At the base of it rests an envelope with Hilda's name on it, and a letter inside: In addition to that, when Hilda walks into her bathroom next she'll find a basket full of freshly laundered towels, her robes the same, and a vibrantly flowering desert flower in the window. Just because. ]