Rose Garden

Lydia has a soft spot for gardening. This isn't something she tells just anybody… though, it's not exactly a secret either, per se. It's in that funny grey area where she wouldn't tell her employees at her office about it, but if anyone bothered to ask, she would gladly answer with the truth. Yes, she loves flowers. Not just because she loves a good cup of jasmine or chamomile tea, but because frankly, there's something calming about having a peaceful little garden to come home to. In a place so close to hell, she finds it rather enjoyable to visit a garden full of assorted flowers.

She has numerous different types of flowers growing, from hydrangeas to daisies, tulips to chamomile. One of the most eye-catching types of flower she has growing, though, is the rose. Several rose bushes sport brilliantly colored roses, red and pink, white, and even a hybrid blue rose that she spent quite a lot of time and effort obtaining. During this time of year, the roses both look and smell particularly stunning.

There is another type of rose that she is particularly fond of, though, and this is the reason for her love for gardening. It is a dark crimson rose and she had always thought it looked rather pretty. She had actually tried for several different times before settling on that one. On a number of occasions, during her twenties or so, she had attempted to grow roses. Each time she had started them, she could never grow them. She simply hadn’t been raised with a green thumb; the skill wasn’t something innate. She had to build up, starting with simpler and smaller flowers and keeping Burrowgatory’s temperatures in mind with anything she tried to grow in her garden.

After several frustrating years, she was finally successful in her goal, and god damn, these roses look amazing. She’s rather proud of them; in her opinion, they’re some of the best roses Burrowgatory has to offer. She could make a profit off of them if she decided to sell them, but almost greedily, she decides to hold onto them all for herself, for her own personal enjoyment.

As roses are rather popular during Matentines, she finds that she really is quite a lucky bun with all of these roses here. Her hooves gently step through the garden, making a soft clop noise as she strides through her collection. She’s never had another succubun buy her a bouquet of roses before, but that doesn’t mean she won’t be able to enjoy them on her own. In fact, for that matter, she could just make her own bouquet, couldn’t she? It would save a lot of time and money, and as a greed succubun, Lydia does love holding onto her carats as much as she can, in favor of cheaper alternatives... so long as those cheaper alternatives are authentic, of course. She has to be classsy about everything she does.

She is deliberately cautious in choosing which roses to clip from the bushes, opting for the ones that are in full bloom and avoiding any ones yet to bud. The older flowers don’t look as nice in a bouquet and will probably wilt much faster, so she avoids those ones as well. All the while, she enjoys the lovely fragrance of the flowers as she chooses an equal amount of roses from each bush, of each color—white, pink, scarlet, blue, and that lovely deep crimson. She’s careful to avoid touching the thorns to the best of her effort, but once she accidentally pricks her finger one one, she retrieves her paw to nurse it, wincing in annoyance and a little bit of pain. “Shit,” she mutters to herself. Why didn’t she bother putting on gardening gloves?

After securing a good pair of gardening gloves to protect her little hooved paws, she continues on her task of picking the best roses for her personal bouquet. Her paw gently reaches out to pick up a few of the blossoms from her bouquet, running her gloved hooves over them, examining them and picking out the ones she wants to incorporate in her bouquet. She is careful to not cut them from their roots, keeping the stems intact as she arranges the roses together.

When she is finished picking out her bouquet, she holds it in front of her face, inhaling deeply. She closes her eyes, enjoying the delicate scent of the flowers. “Oh, these are nice,” she says to herself softly, opening her eyes. She looks at the bouquet again, taking a good, long sniff of the flowers. They're exactly what they needed, and she did a great job growing them, if she must say so herself. Later on, she'll wrap them in ribbons or put them in a vase and enjoy them from inside her house. What a lovely arrangement she's made.