Art Sales

The sun shone brightly overhead and the garden was bursting with life. Bird and insect songs filled the air and a kaleidoscope of colors spread out in all directions from the many flowers and herbs growing in the garden. Of course, for Moony, the most beautiful flower in the garden wasn’t a flower at all. He smiled fondly as he watched Finch move through the paths, gathering and collecting the things she needed.

He tried hard to learn at least some of the more commonly used herbs, wanting to be more helpful to her when he accompanied her out on these gathering trips. But it was hard for him to really focus on much else when she was the center of his attention. Finch’s scales glistened beautifully in the sunlight, and Moony found himself mesmerized as he so often did. He knew her father was not fond of him, and it had kept him too shy to express his feelings to her. He didn’t want to make things too complicated for her with her father. But with each passing day it was getting harder to hide. He used every excuse he could find to come to the healing ward, or accompany her on gathering trips, just to be close to her.

Moony suddenly realized Finch was looking at him, and he turned, trying hard not to show that he’d been staring at her. In the process, he accidentally crushed some of the leaves he’d forgotten were still in his hand. He swallowed down his nervousness and tossed the leaves aside before attempting to look like he knew what he was doing as he gathered a few new ones to put in the basket beside him.

When he finally dared to look back, Finch had moved into another part of the garden. The sunlight and the colorful plants around her only seemed to enhance Finch’s beauty in his eyes. He sighed softly and went back to gathering herbs, at least the ones he remembered being frequently needed. After a moment, he glanced up again, and felt his heart thudding in his chest. When had Finch gotten so close?

He stared, lost in her deep magenta eyes as she moved closer. Finally, he blinked and looked down at the bouquet she was holding out to him. He lifted his gaze back to hers once more, then reached out to take the flowers. Could it be that his feelings were not as unrequited as he thought? Did it truly mean there could be a chance for happiness with her? He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to rein in the tumultuous chaos of thoughts rolling around in his mind.

“Th… thank you. They’re lovely.” he managed, though his voice sounded off even to his ears, as his emotions were still so jumbled. Part of him wanted to tell her that there wasn’t a flower anywhere in the world that could compare with her. But he managed to stop himself, realizing he’d probably make a fool of himself with how cliche it sounded.