You'll know

[James V]

James tacks up a fabric designed rose, with a note next to it, in rather neat cursive writting, with a rarity seen on his facial features, a calming, almost understand to the point for those who catch a rare glimpse of it.

I'm rather...mmm, Too young to gaze in such reflections of being too old to ponder the thought of emptiness. I understand though the feeling and remember it all to well, past that, I s'pose perhaps it's eternal, but the situation I have is not. I seem to be needing a matching rose for the other wrist some time, thanks for makin' me a better man with style and grace.

You know who this is, and who its for.

 

[Elf_Ariel]

For a time the note remains untouched, weathering gracefully as many things should. The rose though, it's silken red fabric does not fade, does not wither, it's charm and grace eternal. A ladies eyes come to peruse it, their sparkling blue a match as she smiles upon the words. Such a reply is writ, and while the script is hastened it is elegant nonetheless.

Such a rose, while they may be seasoned things, remain in memory longer than we dare remember. Perhaps somewhere, sometime, another rose grows to match the first; that you can wear both with pride. One lost and one found. Eternity comes but to a few of us, the rest make do with what we're given.

It was my pleasure, and I was well rewarded.

 

[James V]

as his eyes read the reply, a rather calming sense die the orbs down with a smile ticking on his lips, he just stands there, his eyes closed for what seems like hours, til he replies in a swift manner

I was the one rewarded on many different levels, mmm perhaps from just one rose, will rise a sense of fufillment, and another to share the ideal, if even for the fact eternity looms on us, its eyes continiously watching, there will always be that rose, through the geddon's of eternity, something so harsh, I am a better man, lost once within myself, and found a sense of understanding within the ideals of a rose

I am rewarded for nothing I've done, and the pleasures of the reward manifest into hope, the day was truely mine, if only for a short while, I am still on that high, yet the reward for you will manifest in tenfold one day, and perhaps you'll feel the way I do.

 

[Elf_Ariel]

Those same eyes seek the words, perhaps there was hope in them for a reply. And a strange smile graces her features, for not often is the truth found 'pon a face such as hers. The words seem to settle her, to lure the calming caress of a spring's breeze over her person; for a time she revels in it, thereafter leaving a reply, in pen that is the same simple beauty.

Your reward and mine, seem equal in this gift, for in giving I achieved something which was sorely needed. Perhaps the emptiness is just biding between moments such as these just passed. Within the folds of a rose there are many things, places to hide, places to shine, but of all things, in the richest sense, there is a glimmer of sweetness that seems so faint at first.

I am glad to have found some part of you that was lost. That is my tenfold reward.

For that I am greatful.

 

[James V]

as James moves to read the post, almost in anticipation, he can't help but let out a soft chuckle, with a light smile not far behind, almost excited in a sense though he hides it well. As he digs for a pen, he comes across something else, a thicker piece of paper, though some how unique, the seal is waxed, he begins scribbling something on the paper in a very neat way then he quickly rolls it up, presses his thumb where the wax is, and seals it in, leaving a simple notice beside it.

Simply an amazing person, Open this though when you and I see each other again, This is for you to have, you couldn't bless me in more of a spiritual and mental frame. I'm in the center fold of the rose, stuck in it, waiting, smilin'...

 

[Elf_Ariel]

She passes again, this time expectantly. She hopes...she knows; very rarely is it like her to be this impatient about anything. The impatience pays off though, for she grins as the words pass her eyes. Gentle fingers take up the rolled parchment, her thumb running over the seal. She muses to herself how difficult it will be to be patient about this. Such thoughts elicit a laugh, and she shakes her head as she leaves a note beside.

As you wish it, so I will wait. But know you must, that all roses have thorns. I might well be poor humour about having to wait...or mayhaps even try and seek you out. Dangerous no? I doubt even that could ward away a strong spirit such as yours.

 

[James V]

an amused grin plays on his lips, chucking out as he responds, the humor in his words seem stale to some, perhaps to others they may understand

Even the sweetest smells cause the most radical deaths, and the greatest beauty corrupts even the strongest willed, these so called good people in our society that our idealistic like that rose, have their thorns, hidden from the outside petals, We're all searchin', Hopin', beggin' to strive in what we do, some know it, others haven't the clue for acceptence, When we reach our breaking points in life, we'll break, then we'll heal from those thorns, yet always that emptiness lingers, striving to be filled, for acceptance, the greatest cause to so many lost in the aeons...the hope that lives on, I'm not a hard man to find when I want you to find me, I find myself thinkin' about you every now and then, wonderin' how you'll respond, I'll be around, Look for the big man, with the stylish rose, in the black hat.

 

[Elf_Ariel]

The humour is not stale, just truthful...so often painful. Some might see her smile the same way, her laughter often filled with the poison of truth, the rich sting of honesty. It's rare to come across wit that so willingly accepts...life; the realism of it. She pens neatly her reply, chuckling all the while as she ponders such things to herself, blue eyes alight and knowing...understanding.

I will find you. Have no doubt. Just what to do with you right then is the puzzle. You are a strange man, gifted in the philosophical puzzlings of an old woman, a young rose and a man too young for his mind. Is it not the thorns that make the rose so beautiful, it's deadliness part it's charm? But so it's told, that the thorns shown are not meant to prick you; 'tis those hidden that mean to do you harm. I am not good, but I do hide a lot. Strangely though, I am often accepted; perhaps because I willingly return the favour; given a chance to watch and learn.

I wont question how I respond; nor should you...given that I will not know what was given until I read it with your eyes as well. In this manner you'll know, that it's of heart more than mind. A rose does not think it's beautiful; it feels beautiful.

 

[James V]

James, watching, almost waiting as she passes, nervious in his composer, he's been there, almost hoping with anticipation, the realism of a stale sense of humour is something he is lacking along with the idle ponders as he begins, to simply read the post, after Ariel has past out of sight, he slowly begins to ink in his responce.

And yet it will blossom, then slowly wither away, recycle itself to a stream of life for the next fertility of the crop, We take note in our daily lives to show our beauty, so bold, but to feel such a thing, a truely curse filled gift to some, yet a gift to others, Old you say? I'm not young myself, I'm not sure old would be the most fitting word for you, seasoned perhaps, experienced, maybe, old, nay...To think of such things as old, young, be back, and far to come, are just the signs of hoping, remembering, we are caught up in them all, instead of living what we know, our life of truth, the truth that may reveal glorious promise, dismal despair, obliteration, revenge...or the simple smile that troubles our lips into that feeling of beauty, turning such things to a day of relief, I will be waiting Ariel, with an openned mind, don't think to much you said, I think a bit every now and then, some of that rose, I close my eyes, and imagine the present as it is, to be able to share any gift with you Ariel is something simple as a conversation, a smile, a shrug perhaps, some small interaction is something that I'll think of a bit longer. You aren't Old, you're as I am, able bodied, with a willing spirit, for that one acceptance of something to accomplish, a task perhaps, I will be waiting for you to come. You should never question how you respond, or how things are, We have one shot, one damned moment that is ours to live by with what we do, every single fragment of time, no matter the length or period, will always drift into our memories, but the feeling with the touch, was soothing to the core, It was truely...beautiful.

 

[Elf_Ariel]

The lady did not notice him; haps she had places to go, perhaps she did not want to see him just yet. Lingering doubts and worries, insecurity is something she's not faced in a while. Even so she returns, to read and to write.

I am old. There is no question nor qualm with such a thing. I am beyond my time allotted; this makes me old. I'm not often worried by such a thing; for I see no link 'tween young age and beauty, perhaps the reverse. There is nothing more stunning than an ancient willow standing against the tests of time. There is no comparison to the eldest ruby-rose, for he fathered all the others. Just the eyes change, some can only see beauty as it grows, others see beauty as it fades.

I am glad you will wait. I will come. Perhaps lay another lingering touch 'pon your mind if I am able.