the floriography meme

[nemuri]

the floriography meme


Flowers, in the Victorian Era (1837-1901), were often used as means of communication when people could not openly say things that we do these days. Think about someone who is naturally repressed; now imagine a whole society focusing on being repressed. You can see why lovers needed some sort of secret code. Poor things.

No longer used much, there are some remaining, well-known meanings—roses inspiring passion and love are a classic example. So, grab a bouquet and give it to someone special. Beware of what certain flowers could say, though. Not all flowers were used happily.

note: some prompts might cause triggers; be aware and specify in your comments

oo1. comment with your characters
make sure to put names, series, & preferences somewhere!
oo2. reply to others in character
oo3. go to RNG and roll 1-20
oo4. play out what happens! anything goes!
oo5. profit? profit!
oo6. originally from here

p r o m p t s

oo1. begonia ❀ beware

A hidden message is always appreciated. You need to keep an eye out, because your best friend might be banging your girl, or your girl is trying to off you!

oo2. chrysanthemum ❀ you’re a wonderful friend

Commonly used for funerals, this flower can also be used to send a gentle message. Someone is interested in you, but you only see them as a friend. Sorry.

oo3. clover ❀ promise

Promises, promises. Sometimes you mean them, sometimes you break them. Today, you promised your lover the best day ever. But does it work out?

oo4. daffodil ❀ unrequited love

There is an old tale of how a youth fell in love with his reflection and drowned. This is the ultimate rejection: no sparing of feelings, no kind words. Crush their souls.

oo5. forget-me-not ❀ memories, don’t forget me

This well-known flower is often given to loved ones as parting gifts. Who knows how long you’ll be gone? Maybe for only a day, or forever and a lifetime.

oo6. hazel ❀ reconciliation

You and a former love have parted ways for one reason or another. Time has cooled your head, but not your heart, so maybe it’s time to rekindle that fire.

oo7. hyacinth ❀ sorrow, forgive me

This holiday does not bring happiness to everyone. Yes, you’re sad and alone this year—but what are you going to do about it? Hopefully not mope with ice cream.

oo8. marigold ❀ cruelty

Love doesn’t mean a thing to you. The people around you are all puppets, and you love playing with them in the meanest way possible. Have fun, you psychopath.

oo9. mistletoe ❀ kiss me

Pure and simple: give someone a kiss! Your lover, your little sister, a stranger from across the room, or go wild and give the whole town some love!

o10. orange blossoms ❀ wedding, marriage bliss

Oh yes, you’re doing it: having a wedding on one of the cheesiest days of the year! Bring your rice and gifts, a priest is waiting to unite two people in love.

o11. plum blossom ❀ beauty, longevity

It’s a long shot, but you gotta try it. Flattery and buttering people up is one of the best ways to get what you want… romance, a date, money, sex…

o12. poppy ❀ oblivion

It is never good to be oblivious, and it’s awful to not see that someone is in love with you. But sadly, you are. Or is the other person the clueless one?

o13. primrose ❀ can’t live without you

You need them. More than lust or financial stability, you cannot imagine a world where you are not with this other person. Who said anything about a healthy relationship?

o14. rose (dark red) ❀ mourning

You never broke up with them, you never forgot about them. This is true love separated—they’re dead and gone. But have you moved on?

o15. rose (red) ❀ i love you, confession

Today is the day to express love, and nothing is better than expressing a love not expressed before! So go on, confess those beautiful feelings!

o16. rose (white) ❀ secrecy and silence

Sometimes you have to keep secrets. Sometimes that secret is someone else. So, enjoy a midnight rendezvous or run away for a passionate day somewhere.

o17. rose (yellow) ❀ infidelity

You couldn’t help it, this other person was just too… something to resist. That’s right! You’re cheating on your public lover today, but do you care or not?

o18. saffron ❀ abuse

Not all love is happy. Sometimes the problems are worse than money or cheating. It’s not limited to physical abuse either: there’s emotional, verbal, psychological…

o19. sweet pea ❀ good-bye

This day can really suck sometimes. Not as bad as being dumped on Christmas, but all the same. Your special someone obviously doesn’t feel the same anymore.

o20. violets ❀ let’s take a chance

Go for it! Love is exciting, and you don’t have to stay in a rut. Date someone new, elope, or do something creative. In the end, be different from the norm this year!

Comments

rose (white) ❀ locked to daisily

[formaliteas]

[He is a man of wealth and taste, good manners and noble pedigree, and there are things of this world that are forever out of his reach. Like a relationship with another man's wife. Many an eyebrow would be raised should word of his feelings ever bleed into the collective awareness of high society — that network of upper-class souls that he had been raised to navigate with the finesse expected of the Tomoe family heir. Not so much because it was Daisy Buchanan that had captured his attention, but because he was not, it seems, content to settle for some other, unattached woman that could rival her in beauty. Just what was so special about her? would have been some of the scandalized murmurs, among others.

So it was that Daisy would have been lost to him......

....but only if he had pursued her openly, recklessly, without due care and thought. What they have now is something clandestine, secretive. Through hidden means, he's ensured that a simple white envelope has made its way to her without arousing notice or suspicion. It contains a letter written in neat cursive, upon fine parchment that's lightly scented in pleasant ways. As usual, it speaks of his feelings and sings her praises. The only striking thing comes at the end: a polite request to meet in a private secluded cafe at dusk.

He waits there now, fingers tented as he regards the black depths of his tea.]

[daisily]

[She is a pretty white flower amongst the garden of bustling socialites and nouveau riche, with her dresses of silk petals and pearls weighing heavily upon her slender throat like a noose, but just another one of many: her title as the Louisville sweetheart has faded with her marriage, now known as just another wife added to collection of the hefty Buchanan empire—certainly no one deserving of such particular adoration and splendor of a thousand men, let alone the handsome heir to the Tomoe family. The only son, a fine gentleman with a golden voice and the most mesmerizing eyes, tempered with a polite coolness. But for her, his dispassionate composure revealed the heady fervor of a desperate passion.

At this time, she is barely twenty-three, her daughter has just passed out of infancy, and her broken heart is not quite mended. However, she has been married long enough to grow weary of her husband's "little sprees", as he called them (she had a much more unflattering term for it, privately), to shudder from the force of his drunken hand, and to long for the chance to be vibrantly uninhibited once more. Once upon a time, she had once thought love could conquer all. She knows better now, having traveled all over Europe before her spouse's exotic tastes brought them to the East, at last deciding to settle in the metal jungle of New York.

Love may not conquer all, but as hopeless romantic in her cries, love is still existent. She feels it whenever she chances upon one of his letters, in the racing of her heart and the tremble of her fingers, skimming over his words. Although they have carried on together for a short time now, it still hasn't faded in the slightest. Come twilight she wears a relatively modest dress and keeps her head dipped low, her heels echoing against the marble cafe tiles like the inexorable ticking of a clock.]

It's a lovely spot.

[She is breathless for him, because of him, allowing the waiter to pull her chair out for her before sending him on his way. Try as she might to stifle it, the pure delight in her smile betrays her giddy excitement.]

[formaliteas]

[He's been glancing from his tea to the door, waiting for her arrival. And as cliche as it might sound, it takes his breath away to see her step through the door and make her way toward the table he's reserved for them. Mamiya straightens up, his posture now impeccable. Not a hair out of place, clothes crisp and finely tailored, the picture of a well-groomed and dignified man in the peak of his youth.]

Ah....I'm afraid it's not half so lovely as you.

[The quietest stutter to his normally smooth manner, delight warring with the instinctual compulsion to remain composed at all times. Such are the lessons ground into him from before he could walk. Show no fear. Remain calm at all times. Never reveal what you're really thinking. He reaches out a little, offering her his palm so that she might give him her hand to briefly kiss and then release. But only if she would like to, for Mamiya is always gentle with her in this way. Patient, thoughtful, more considerate of her needs and wants than he was of his own.]

[daisily]

[Twice now, she has offered the vulnerable pink of her heart to men, both occasions ending in a violent storm of sobs. She had loved Tom, once upon a very long time, when he had flattered her with the physicality of his frame and her most cherished memory of him was the hour when he had held her in his arms like a kittenish bride, her ivory-sole heels clenched in one hand, carrying her down from the Punch Bowl in order to keep her feet dry. And there had been another, a ghost of her past, a darling of a soldier and the thousand letters exchanged between them.

Her third time, she knows (hopes) will not end on such bitter notes.

She giggles at his greeting compliments, enjoying the sight of him as much as any young lady might admire her beau, on such a gorgeous evening. He sits so primly, offering the pale palm of his hand to her, his fingers as slim and delicate as a girl's. She graciously gives him her own, her wrist dotted with lavender perfume, and the press of his lips is light and adorably old-fashioned.]

You'll spoil me rotten.

[She murmurs, not without a smile which says she really wouldn't mind it at all. Outside, the sky has been painted a lovely wash of blue, with the white constellations of stars not quite beginning to show through. For now, though, they remain enclosed in their own little space, in the privacy he has managed to afford for them. It is a fleeting rendezvous, but at the present, it is all she can ask for.]

Did you see the stars? They're just coming out. [She asks, as if confiding a secret in him. Addressing the fragility of the affair directly is strictly taboo, nothing that ought to be acknowledged or voiced. It brings an unspoken heaviness to their meetings, at times, but to confess any manner of unease or displeasure, even a hint of woe, would wreck the delicate peace they have between them. And if she is sad, then he will be sad, and that would be much too much for them both to suffer.] Night-time is a rather scandalous time to meet, wouldn't you say?

[She teases him, with warmest affections.]