[identity profile] austenianhorror.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] bait_backup
*It's fashioned rather like a circus tent - rounded and bulbous, all curves and no angles with intricate iron-work spiralling between panes of glass. Inside, the greenhouse is a veritable jungle. Several trees reach the top of the enclosure easily like contorted pillars while vines, visibly and contentedly writhing, cover everything as neatly as a fresh layer of linen over a bed.

Earthy, messy and gnome-ridden, the Higgs manor greenhouse seems too untamed, too dirty, for a woman of Victoria's leanings. And yet, morning finds her in a thick, tarp-like dress, its material far more hardy and far less extravagant than her normal attire. The hems are dusted in soil and the position of her knees are highlighted with vague, grassy stains. Her tools of choice, a pair of prim gardening gloves and a bone china water jug, hopelessly dwarfed by the shrubbery.

Despite her meagre supplies, the mandrakes are already cooing in wriggly expectation, their malformed bodies plump and fully grown yet still distinctly infantile. The nearest mushes its gnarled face into the back of her legs happily, like a kitten wanting attention.*

Date: 2011-05-14 07:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
*The morning is bright and fresh and green, but to Regulus, a mousy rat in the botanical labyrinth he has been instructed to find his way through just to reach Victoria, it seems ominous. Even the pale sun sucks more heat from the air than it gives, and Regulus keeps his arms crossed against an almost certainly psychosomatic breeze as he sets off to ask his green-thumbed fiancée as many questions as he can.

He's tolerated the flowers that always seem to crop up in his own home at the feminine insistence of his mother, but they are always in vases and they always wither quickly without the sun to hold them. Plants are safe once they begin to wilt, still fragrant but neutralised. This place is fretfully different, however, and not a single thing looks brown or tired. The hall of bushes that leads up to the greenhouse shudders as he walks along them, sending the message of his arrival ahead to goodness only knows what. Even through the glass he can see the building is stuffed with leaves and stocks and flowers, all woven together by a slithering army of creepers. Dreadful memories of ill-fated Herbology lessons jump around in his stomach, warning him that he could be unleashing anything that might be growing inside.

What he sees as the door swings inward though, thankfully, is not stingers and thorns but the gold of Victoria's hair. It stands out like a beacon of humanity among all the green, and he'd be almost glad to see her if the sight of her kneeling on the bare earth didn't make him frown and think dirty thoughts in the truest, most soil-related way of the word.

He stands there, not sure if knocking is appropriate in outdoor buildings, and only reveals himself after several moments of silently watching Victoria use a trowel when something experimentally touches his ear. He starts, makes a very odd sound that must be some kind of syllable in some language, and sees several delicate, thread-like vines recoil back to their home on the doorframe, blackened and spurned.*

Date: 2011-09-11 10:21 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
*His eyes turn back to her before his body does, but after he's certain the plant will not be returning he shifts and adjusts his sleeves as though he has someone to formally present himself to.*

No I - It touched me.

Date: 2011-09-11 10:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
Oh. Do they.

It's a wonder they don't grow away from here.

Date: 2011-09-11 10:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
They must like it here. I don't expect there's much for a vine to dislike in a greenhouse; they have nothing to... slither toward.

Date: 2011-09-11 11:19 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
*Regulus' mouth tightens, momentarily stretched thin in an awkward wish to not know. Unfortunately, he has come here today seeking much more frightening information than the habits of a little vine, and he's already regretting his decision.*


Do you plant many carnivorous things?

Date: 2011-09-11 11:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
*On any other occasion Victoria's less than delicate way of cutting to the chase would be embarrassingly true. Luckily, interest doesn't necessarily translate to enjoyment, so Regulus is able to remain in the right with only a little bit of guilty verbal stumbling.*

No I - I've found myself curious. I'd like to know.

Date: 2011-09-12 02:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
I'm upsetting them?

*Eyes momentarily closed to fend of the lightheadedness he had avoided since Herbology lessons in school when he'd been forced to repot smaller versions of the same dreadful creatures, Regulus sticks a finger briefly in his ear to tempt sound back into it and get rid of the ringing the Mandrake has left behind.*

Date: 2011-09-12 06:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com


*What looks like remorse for this relative he has never met is actually far more selfish than it appears. With obstacles ahead of him put in place not just by the Dark Lord, but with Helga Hufflepuff in mind, Regulus knows to expect something wretched and growing, but he isn't looking forward to spending 30 days at the hospital for it, or worse.*

Victoria... Are plants - well, worse, now more than they used to be years ago? Surely they've changed somewhat.

Date: 2011-09-13 02:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
*Grimmauld Place was never filled with laughter, and Regulus is a very clear reflection of that. He remembers the raucous hilarity his schoolmates had occasionally taken part of, the ungenuine lilt of party-laughter that sprinkles itself across Christmas and garden parties, but most of his memory of laughter comes only from Barty. Until now, he had thought that was the most uncanny expressions of mirth he would ever hear, but the mystery that is Victoria has proved him wrong. He glances uncomfortably away from her, looking for non-existent escape or backup.*

...So they haven't?

Date: 2011-09-27 06:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
Oh.


Well, all the same-

*This is necessary, he reminds himself, but being laughed at has kicked though his already fragile control. His hands spring together in front of him, he sees himself fidget this time, checking the buttons at his wrists, but he lets it turn it's course in order to keep up the bravery to continue his line of questioning.*

If not for the plants, what about for people. What about very old growing things. Forests, vines - maybe even flowers, I can't be certain. Would you say they would have been rather similar to the ones now or have we changed them to be easier to control...

Date: 2011-09-29 10:12 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
*He meets her eye again just for a moment, knowing perfectly well what she means and her opinions on the Death Eaters, but surprised by how close and yet how very far she is from the truth.*

No. ...I plan everything.


But I'm not, planning anything.

Date: 2011-09-29 10:19 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
I thought you liked plants.

Date: 2011-09-29 10:27 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com


What help could I possibly need with plants, Victoria, I - we're hardly in Herbology anymore.

I - came... to see you. Just - to see you.

Date: 2011-09-29 10:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
*Regulus, who has managed to be so unobtrusive that not even the Dark Lord has noticed his deceit, is little more than a quivering sea creature in the face of a woman. Though Victoria clearly does not support Voldemort herself, there is a vast difference between that and defying him, and therefore so very much he could never dream to tell her. Still, there is something so damandingly puritanical in Victoria's expressions that part of him wishes it was possibly to absolve himself and tell her about Hufflepuff and the Cup and where he believes it is hidden. All he can do, however, is brush non-existent dirt from various areas of sleeve and cloak.*

I'm... I shouldn't like you to think of me as irregular.

Date: 2011-10-16 11:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
Now, Victoria.

*His words have become very sticky and strange, clearly not entirely honest but as he stumbles along it begins to seem as though he's merely uncomfortable with being firm, or being close with another human being, rather than worrying about matters of ancient traps and horcruxes.*

We're to be - um. I believe we should make an effort to find more pleasure in one another's activities. You... like plants. I'm not adverse to history so... combining the two doesn't seem very irregular to me when one considers the logic.

Date: 2011-10-16 11:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
I certainly don't, well...

*All eloquence, so precarious a skill in the presence of the opposite sex, is gone. Regulus is left embarrassed and no longer sure of the meaning of anything being said, and definitely no closer to his goal.

Woman may preach as many hobbies and passions to others as they so chose, but when the time comes Regulus has only seen one true interest come up with women and it just so happens to be the one he finds most perplexing and inappropriate. It is the ever looming topic of the Relationship, and it will haunt him til the day he escapes this life.*

I'm not certain I understand? If I've caused any offence I certainly didn't intend to be unbecomingly spontaneous.

Date: 2011-10-16 11:33 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com


Very well.

Lately, this has become something rather... interesting to me. And I simply would find your thoughts compelling.

You have so very much to say, usually, I thought you might enjoy a little conversation. Like - friends, sort of.

Date: 2011-11-06 08:49 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spindleform.livejournal.com
Do you not think we should be familiar?

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