50th of Spring, 513 AV The Nettle District "Goodness, Atta, you've been having me up to here with orders!" the young blonde placed her palm along the top of her neck, mimmicking a man's head being hung on a noose as she packed up another set of pots and bouquets into her cart. The old woman laughed boisterously as she collected the payment of two other customers; a pair of men who were courting sisters. "I did say I would bully you, my dear, and it's the middle of the season!" Atta turned around and placed her hands on her hips, "It is also Spring, have you any idea when flowers bloom the best?" "When they are under your care, Atta," the girl replied with a wink. "Save those sort of words for a man who will respond with the same sentiment," the old woman mused. Sigrun smiled, but rolled her eyes and shook her head, "never." She took another two bouquets of flowers and made for the street. "I wager my entire business that you're wrong!" Atta called out, grinning as she approached another customer. "I expect to be in charge this entire operation first thing tomorrow morning, then!" Sigrun replied, laughing. As she walked down the street, cart of flowers in tow, a soft smile played on her face. It was unlike her to allow such a thing to linger on her face, but that was the effect of Atta, who reminded her so much of her mother. She glanced down at the copy of the order list and then made her way down the street until she reached the first on the list; a small business in need of brightening up. "Morning," she exchanged pleasantries with the owner of the place, and carefully handed him a tall, thin vase covered in a festive arrangement. "Thank you, it's..." he responded, as he gave Sigrun the payment, "for a party." "You enjoy yourself now," she nodded, exiting. She then delivered a few bouquets to another store, but apparently they were for the owner's daughters. "Uhm, for..." Sigrun trailed off as she struggled to read Atta's handwriting on the paper. "It's here! They're here!" came the high-pitched shout of a teenaged girl. Her sisters, who were all donned in such gawdy dresses, came tumbling over to her cart and plucking out the bouquets like wild flowers. They all squealed and jumped up and down. "Hey," Sigrun snapped. The four girls froze. "It's these," she glowered at the flowers in her hands, "not those, put them down." "They don't come with messages, if you were hoping for any," she added, gazing down at them snootily as she sauntered off. She hadn't finished even half of the list and already she was feeling quite exhausted. Sigrun rested the side of her body on a wall and stared up ahead, her eyes scanning the street and the multitudes of people, wondering to herself if flower delivery was going to be the rest of her life. Sighing, she picked herself up and dragged the cart down the street once more. Her next destination was another store. |