flowers = murder attempt. obviously. (because murder.) | Quirk #8

It's the last Saturday of August and in a shocking turn of events I have a Quirk ready for you to read.  

("But how is that shocking," you say, in your innocence. "You said you would put your Quirk up today?" Ahhhh I remember the naivety of youth, back when things were simple and life was sweet and I had not made a habit of vanishing for full half-years at a time and also I actually READ books instead of bringing them home and then avoiding their accusing gazes until the library demands their return.)

Annnnnyway. A Quirk.

 

“Oooh. Flowers.” Casper leaned in close over Tara’s shoulder, letting the smirk into his voice.

He would have liked to blame her slight jump on his increased sneakiness, seeing how she’d claimed that she, as his guard, was the only reason any of his definitely-not-foolish-what-do-you-mean-Tara-there’s-no-way-this-can-go-wrong-and-anyway-I’m-the-king plans had ever succeeded, and seeing how she had furthermore claimed he’d never have any sneakiness ever, and seeing how his whole self-imposed training thing was admittedly an uncoordinated attempt to prove her wrong. But if he was entirely honest the jump was probably more to do with her attention being transfixed by the giant bouquet of flowers on the table in front of her.

…Of course, he tried to never be entirely honest, what an uncomfortable and chaos-free way that would be to live. So he could probably give at least half a point to the sneakiness training. He deserved that. Especially since, far from giving him a point if she knew about the training, she would no doubt laugh in his face.

In fact, she—

…hadn’t responded.

Casper leaned a little further over and peered into her face. “Are those. Tears. Are flowers such an infrequent occurrence for you. Ooh, who are they from—”

A sniff. Then, that apparently not enough, Tara wiped her sleeve across her eyes and nose with all the delicacy of a lady-in-waiting.

…If the lady-in-waiting had been, immediately prior, sprayed in the face with heavily-seasoned soup. Or perhaps hot tea.

“Your highness,” she said, voice no less exasperated for the watery tone, “no one would send me flowers. As plots for the throne go, I at least have to give this one credit for attempting to take me out first.”

What. What what what. He might not be bodyguard material himself, which he of course didn’t need to be, he had Tara and also he was the king, but surely it’s a little too much to look at flowers and see murderous intentions?

“Tara. I love you and there’s no one to match you as a personal guard, but that’s a little paranoid, don’t you think? Flowers. An attempt to murder you.”

She turned her face towards him, and the light caught the full effect of the glower on her streaming face. “Casper. I am allergic.”

“…Well maybe whoever sent them didn’t know that and they just wanted to send you flowers!” He took a few hasty steps back as she sneezed, her sleeve catching maybe half of the spray. “Also could you. Maybe not do that. This suit is my favourite of the green ones and I was looking forward to wearing it today.”

Tara stared at him, dead-pan. “I’m sorry in advance for the inconvenience my murder is going to have on your life.”

“That’s not what I—you know what?” Casper swooped past her and snatched the bouquet off the table. “Let me just rescue you from this dangerous threat. No need to thank me. It’s definitely normal for a king to rescue his bodyguard from plots involving a sneezing death by flowers.”

He tucked them under his arm and marched out of the room, then paused. “Also!” he called back through the doorway. “I am keeping these, just so you know! No point letting the poor plant’s hard work go to waste. They’ll look lovely by a window in my room. Don’t forget to wash up before you appear in public, Tara, you look even more lovely and terrifying than usual.”

------

Casper shoved the flowers into a jug of water on the high side table and slouched into his seat. Pulling a notebook across the desk, he picked up a pencil and crossed out the last item in a list:

· Promotion she laughed and asked what was above king’s bodyguard

· Telling her I like her I don’t think she’s noticed

· Flowers SHE’S ALLERGIC

Casper nibbled on the end of his pencil, then sighed.

· More frequent opportunities to tell me how wrong I am?

 

If the names (and personalities) seemed oddly familiar, like that one person with a giant yellow tote bag who you pass on your way to the bank and you're pretty sure you saw them earlier because that bag's pretty distinctive and that's fine but also it's weird that it happened twice, then fear not! You are neither going slightly loopy nor about to be mugged! Casper and Tara appeared... like... nearly a year ago, in Quirk #5, Time For Treason. He got kidnapped. They argued about whether that counts as an actual thought-out plan for flushing out treason or not. 

...Now, I may or may not, at the time, have casually promised that Tara's like five years older than him and sees him vaguely as an annoying little brother. I may or may not have forgotten that when I got the initial flash of inspiration to plonk this pair of characters into a new scenario. 

Buuut that can still apply. In fact I think it makes the whole situation funnier. 

(I don't have to deal with it, after all. Casper does.)

• • • • •

Shout out to our Quirk writers! This week we have the below blog posts:

• The Story Sponge: In Which There Will Be Flowers And There May Or May Not Be Murder
• Elisha: The Tulip Field  
• Nicole Dust: when your assassination victim overrides your plans
• The Temperamental Writer: Devious Plots and Allergies
• Samantha: A Wrap-Up and A Quirk 
  

And, possibly because I tried to mix things up a bit with the prompt this time around (pink! have we seen pink yet? it's a totally different vibe!), the subsequent Quirks are lovely and varied! 

We have a serious story, the start of a serial story, superheroes, a story about a story about murder, and siblings!

(Is it really a Quirk if we don't end up with siblings somewhere. I'm so happy.)

• • • • •

So I don't really have anything to put here. 

Except that I have—at this very moment, whilst typing this very sentence—realised that finding Owl City's instagram has affected my writing almost instantly and I do not know how to feel about that. (I mean. Was there an actual reason to write a hugely-run-on sentence about a person with a yellow tote bag who inspires that odd feeling of "is something off, am I about to be mugged and have my five dollar note and my one gold tooth and my favourite pen stolen, do I need to start doing the chicken dance to scare them away"?)

 ^ Me having 10pm realisations
(they're a bit like Shower Thoughts)
(but more surreal)

Thank you to everyone who has written a Quirk, and everyone who has read a Quirk, and everyone who has a quirk of their own. You make the world brighter. 

But also of course if you haven't read these Quirks then you're missing out. Shoo. Go do that. 

Comment first, though, of course.

Oh the Silmaril Awards are happening again! the hosts have been announced! I am one of them! I do not know how! So there's that too.