Chapter Text
one | unification
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"M'love, I'm home!" Elizabeth calls out as she steps through the side door to her quaint cottage, her skin glistening with droplets as the evening rainpour lightly falls, harmoniously drumming on the roof. Once she closes the door, clicking shut, the sound of the wind's gentle tune dwindles away, drowned out by the vibrant life within. She invites summer into her home with ease. Her hair slightly tousled and damp, stray petals cling to her clothes while the faint scent of sunflowers and daisies linger around her, sun-kissed and serene. Calloused hands smudged with soil and pollen, she peels off her florist apron and drapes it over the back of the chair, its charcoal color starkly noticeable in the gentle-lit kitchen's ambience.
There comes no response, except for the patter of tiny paws skittering across the hardwood floor, followed by a blur of fur rushing towards Elizabeth at full speed. Laughter spills from her lips, joy unfurling freely, and she kneels to scratch behind her purring companion's floppy ears. His prominently white fur coat feels silky smooth against her skin – a welcome contrast to the coarse flower stems that attached themselves to her palms throughout the day, more so than usual due to the busy weekend.
"Hi Little Darling," Elizabeth croons, her voice feather-light. "Where's your mama, mm? Where's my little Blackbird?"
Blackbird. A precious nickname Elizabeth has used ever since their college years, stemming from a story: how Nerissa once found a wounded blackbird in the campus garden while walking with Elizabeth after a late afternoon class and nursed it back to health. She sat there for at least an hour, the grass staining her clothes, saturated from an early-morning downpour. She patiently hummed soft melodies to soothe it whilst wrapping its wing with makeshift bandages, researched what it needed to recover, and ensured it had food and water.
Elizabeth swears it was then she knew, without question, that the feeling squeezing her chest was love – watching Nerissa, her hands so gentle yet steady, breathing life back into something so small and fragile, was nothing short of pure beauty. Compassion looked effortless on her, and Elizabeth found herself in awe.
Elizabeth brushes off the memory with a smile, and suddenly the only thing running through her mind is how this may be the closest she'll ever come to Heaven – aside from the real thing, where tranquility is perpetual and not merely a brief interlude amid the world's chaos. Her eyes, heavy with weariness, scan the kitchen, only to be met with evident traces of Nerissa's presence. The unmistakable aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves blends with pumpkin, finally reaching her senses, overpowering in its richness, once she finally notices the mouth-watering spice bread cooling on the counter. Oh, Rissa . . . you're too good for me, she thinks, sighing, utterly infatuated. So, so lovely.
She holds Little Darling under her arm, gently rubbing his chest as she makes her way to her and Nerissa's shared bedroom, resting part of her weight against the tattered doorframe. Nerissa is sprawled across the bed, her reading glasses placed beside her face, atop the mushroom-pattern comforter. Dressed in a peach-colored robe and fuzzy fleece-lined slippers, her countenance is as content as ever, lacking any harsh contours. "Rissa," Elizabeth calls, volume lifting with nurturing insistence, and lays Little Darling down onto the bed, allowing him to nuzzle Nerissa's warm, flushed cheeks.
Nerissa awakes with a yawn, giggles abruptly bubbling from her lips because of her absurdly ticklish nature. Out of breath, she laughs out, "Okay, okay. It was just a little nap, Darcy. I swear–" The sentence dies on her tongue the moment she perceives Elizabeth's adoring stare in her peripheral vision. She rises to her feet at once, nearly falling over in the process due to her legs getting tangled up in her intricately adorned quilt. "Liz!" She exclaims, enveloping her beloved into a hug. "Hi, darling. Welcome home," she says, pressing a kiss to the freckle on the bridge of Elizabeth's nose, laughing when it scrunches up in playful response.
"Hi," Elizabeth delicately utters, entwining her fingers with Nerissa's as she traces the weary lines on her expressive face, inadvertently eliciting a shiver to ripple down Nerissa's spine. "Just how long is a 'little' nap, exactly?" She teases, raising an eyebrow.
Nerissa grins sheepishly, glancing over at the time displayed on the TV planted onto the wall. It reads 4:12 PM, not long after Elizabeth gets off of work on the weekends. (She leaves for work at 7:30 AM for the start of her eight a.m. shift and begins her journey home at 4:00 PM.) "Hey, this time, it was only about, like, five minutes! Definitely not as bad."
Elizabeth shakes her head in mock disbelief, recalling last weekend when she came home to find Nerissa fast asleep on the sofa with Bobby, their lovely dog, laying at her feet, the pasta noodles and freshly-picked vegetables Nerissa planned on cooking abandoned on the counter.
They linger for a moment, content with each other's presence, selfishly wishing the world would come to a standstill and briefly pause just for them. Elizabeth gazes back into Nerissa's eyes, realizing how she's unable to express the extent of her love; when she admires the Sun that further brightens up the room, casting dappled streams of light across the furniture, all she wants to do is tell Nerissa she loves her. Tell Nerissa how she'd look out Petal & Vine's bay window, up at the golden, cloud-streaked sky, and could only wonder if she was doing well in that very instant. Oftentimes, on melancholic workdays, she'd imagine herself in a lush park, surrounded by willow trees that swayed with birdsong as she was serenaded by Nerissa's dulcet voice, listening intently as she spoke about the latest musical artists she followed.
In this daytime reverie, everytime Nerissa smiled, her dimples deep and radiant, an angel obtained its wings. Everytime Nerissa smiled, Elizabeth swears that perhaps the pain of the past was worth it if it meant it led her to the present. It's remarkable – the way the ice-cold chill Elizabeth believed had long settled into her veins steadily melts, replaced by warmth and iridescent radiance. She comes to understand, in Nerissa's company, it feels as if she is drinking sunlight. Like she's cradling the Sun itself in her hands, her palms pressed flat against the subtle curve of Nerissa's back.
Elizabeth melodically hums, inquiring, "The pumpkin spice bread you made is waiting for us, innit?"
Nerissa's face lights up, the twinkle in her eyes resembling a solitary star in the vast, midnight-blue sky during the dead of night. "Ah, it is!" She exclaims, already darting out of the room before Elizabeth can react, leaving her no choice but to follow her, hopelessly devoted, akin to a loyal shadow. As they traverse down the hallway, Elizabeth fights the urge to turn back when she hears Little Darling meow from the bedroom, nestled against Nerissa worn, floral-printed pillow that lays on her side of the bed.
The scent of the baked goods invade Elizabeth's senses yet again, seamlessly overpowering Nerissa's fragrance. Before Nerissa grabs a knife, holding the bread steady and cutting through with careful strokes, she pauses her movements and glances around. "No flowers today?" She asks, looking over her shoulder to see Elizabeth leisurely strolling into the back room where her computer desk and work essentials are situated.
Elizabeth gets distracted by Bobby barking at the back door, his damp snout flattened against the pane. She had been heading for the bottom drawer that contains magazines, floral arrangement guides, and personal notebooks brimming with design ideas. But she stops abruptly, whirling around at Nerissa's voice, her hair spilling in an unkempt wave.
"Mhm," Elizabeth replies. "Saint won't let me keep bringing home the leftovers every time, y'know?" Upon letting Bobby in and retrieving the notebook she bought just over a month ago, already half-full from mindless doodles as well as serious attempts at layout, she turns off the lamp that had been left on during her absence. She places her notebook on the mat, at her usual spot at the kitchen table, right next to Nerissa's seat.
"Saint? Remind me again who that is . . ." Nerissa murmurs, first placing a slice for herself on a round plate before then grabbing one for her lover, whose eyes reflect tenderness.
At the table, Elizabeth's eyes, gracefully fluttering like a butterfly's wings, closes as she recalls the possible descriptors she could use. A short respite precedes her words. "Saint Vellichor, the son of Petal & Vine's owner. Slender guy with a sugary-lookin' grin, also sorta quiet. You met him once, on our third date where I forced you to listen to me ramble on about my interests," she jokes, that day simultaneously playing out in her mind. "Does that ring or chime any bells?"
Nerissa's expression shifts gradually; it takes a minute for the furrows in her eyebrows to smooth out, but once they do, she laughs at herself, amusedly shaking her head and handing Elizabeth her fair share of pumpkin bread. Elizabeth's stainless steel ring of the Taurus symbol digs slightly into her skin, its coolness particularly noticeable. "Maybe so," she quietly teases, and Elizabeth is certain she's lost in thought, if the absentmindedly tapping of her black-polished fingertips against the table is any indication.
Elizabeth remembers it like it was yesterday. They'd spent that first lazy Friday together morning as a new couple enjoying the warmth of the fireplace in Nerissa's childhood home; it was irregularly peaceful, though, as her parents had left for a weekend getaway, leaving the house free of the usual hustle. Her sisters, Malpha and Aradia, were preoccupied with their husbands, and Malpha was also busy caring for her children.
Elizabeth was clearly nervous, uncertain about how to genuinely navigate the intimacy of sharing a morning with someone – especially the woman she was hopelessly in love with. But once Nerissa noticed her hesitation, she encouraged her to relax, familiarity coloring her voice. Soon enough, her breathing evened out significantly, until Nerissa rested her head against her chest, making it beat in an off-kilter rhythm.
Elizabeth wished she could've stayed there for as long as she needed, but work called her name. An hour before eight a.m., she realized she needed to get ready and started to groggily grab her things she had brought over to Nerissa's home, knowing she'd stay through the night and into the morning. Nerissa convinced her that it would be fun for them to go together, since she'd be seeing Elizabeth in her element.
A flower crown composed of roses, their petals a deep red and blue, intertwined with hydrangeas in a gentle shade of purple, was ultimately crafted amidst a chorus of giggles that enhanced the homely atmosphere of the shop. Kisses on rosey noses were exchanged during the interludes between customers, most of whom came seeking arrangements for either funerals or weddings, though some deemed it to be a thoughtful token of gratitude, be it romantic or more platonically speaking. The kind shared among friends.
The two of them tuck the memory away like a gift tied with a lovely ribbon, Nerissa's gaze fixed on Elizabeth as she takes a bite of the pumpkin bread, crumbs scattering onto the plate below. Elizabeth tilts her head to the side, an easy smile blessing her facial expression.
Nerissa rambles, hopeful, "What do you think? Is it any good? I dusted off mama's recipe from the ancient storage bin but I'm not sure if it turned out the way I planned, to be honest. It doesn't taste exactly like she made it, but I suppose that's just the way it is when it comes to cooking and baking. You put your own love into it and all . . ." She sighs, brushing a crumb away from the corner of her mouth and propping her head on the hand she has lightly braced against the table.
"Of course, it's good. Delicious, even," Elizabeth replies with a smile, glancing at the crumbs littered along the edges of her plate. "I can tell that your mama’s love is still there, even if it's a bit different."
'Good' doesn't even begin to not only describe the feeling that comes with being able to be on the receiving end of considerate gestures, but also the perpetual state of adoration Elizabeth has found herself willingly bound to.
A smile tugs at Nerissa's curved lips, soft as a vibrant blue-tinged feather. "I'm glad you're enjoying it," she tenderly admits, leaning over to scratch Bobby's head before abrupt laughter is coaxed out of her when he nudges closer than he is already is, his nose lodging itself under her arm. "I love you just the same, Bo! No need to be jealous, okay? None at all."
Mama, Elizabeth thinks, lost in conversation-based reflection, when you spoke of Heaven, did you mean this? Tranquility touches her soul with every gust of wind, and each laugh that escapes the curtain of Nerissa's lips has undertones of velvet twilight and blueberry blossom.
Oh, by the Gods, this is love. Joy-laced and star-lit. A love that is an ever-flowing, running river – alive and mercurial, much like life itself. A love that doesn't have to rot or soften, for it is maintained like a garden. A love where Elizabeth asks Nerissa to delicately water her soul, in hopes of doing it interchangeably whilst they remain alongside each other throughout the process of flowering. A love that'll allow for Elizabeth to elegantly flourish into a scarlet-tinted rose; Nerissa, a sapphire-colored crystal palace lobelia. Their vibrant petals will fall onto the luminous earth, each phase of their growth resonating through the hymn of the willow trees, whispering: I love you.
There are a thousand other ways to say it, of course, and neither Elizabeth nor Nerissa waste an opportunity to let it seep into their every word and action, some mundane and others more explicitly communicated: a shared glance, a lingering smile, the soft hum of a song echoing into the night to calm the other's nerves for the day awaiting their inevitable arrival. No matter what it may be, or how trivial it may seem in the long run, these moments are significant in a subtle, yet enduring way.