Bloom & Grow [Ursula]

[Brenner Dornkirk]

BLOOM & GROW
Continued from Bless My Homeland Forever

"I don't think I'm particularly winsome." Brenner demurred, wrinkling his nose a bit. "With strapping blokes like Stefan and Myles Arnnett populating our city, I feel rather plain." He shrugged, "Don't take that to suggest that I am remotely humble about my strengths. I could sell the sea to a Druskai and I think I will be instrumental to our victory in the coming war but, well... I know my strengths and my weaknesses." He conceded and gestured to a bench,

"Shall we sit a spell?"

He shook his head.

"Battle is exhilarating, of course, but it isn't something I long for. To me, war and violence are unfortunate necessities. It is an uniquely cruel mind that covets bloodshed, but it is a stalwart soul who brooks it as a sacrifice for a better future. I think my new position will afford me great opportunities to benefit the war effort than I could as the second-in-command of the dirigible dreadnought." This seemed to be something to which he'd devoted a great deal of thought. The newness of his position demanded that sort of introspection.

"I believe Arlais and Dardouen are at odds because they are too similar. Things often tend that way." He cocked an amused eyebrow at Ursula's increasingly bold wordplay. He grinned broadly,

"Ah yes... There is nothing quite like a freshly baked loaf of Gelerian pumpernickel." He leaned closer, almost conspiratorial as he whispered, "I shall have to accompany you to my favourite Gelerian bakery sometime. They give you a higher quality product if you order in Kathalan, und ich spreche fließend Kathalisch." He noted with a wry wink.

[Ursula Fletcher]

“You don’t?”

Ursula held a gloved hand over her mouth, pretending shock. “Would you call me - a Lady, mind you - a liar? And here I thought you to be exceptionally well-mannered, Commander Dornkirk.”

She held that expression, her pretended surprise, for a moment before it broke against a sly smile. “But perhaps it’s better you aren’t aware,” she mused, her eyes sharp with mischief, even as she ignored the mention of Myles. Her Myles. Brenner and Myles. “A rose that knows it is a rose thinks of little else, after all.”

Ursula sat down without complaint. She wanted to see more of the garden. She wondered about the flowers and the trees. She imagined strange fruit trees from all sorts of exotic locales. She thought about the dirt and the air and the bugs that surely made this place as much theirs as it was the plants.

Good, she thought, that he didn’t wish for bloodshed. Better that he wouldn’t fight in this war. The idea of becoming a widow at her age, when she wasn’t even engaged.

“Ah! How marvelous,” she smiled, “You must teach me a few phrases. I wouldn’t be denied quality, of any sort.”

She let a brief silence envelop them both, a natural pause. Their arms were still intertwined. If only she hadn’t seen that look, that blush. Ursula was shocked by her obsession. Once upon a time, marrying a man who cared for men would have been a happy ending.

“Does this bakery offer dessert, Commander? I do appreciate Gelerian chocolate cake.”

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Ah," Brenner couldn't help but chuckle, "Well, it would seem you've caught me out. I can hardly contend with that line of argument. Well done, you." The smile lingered longer than the laughter.

"Ah, but I hardly think of myself as a rose." He glanced off to the side to the patch of white they'd just stepped away from moments ago. "I am more akin to... Zaichaeri edelweiß. Unassumingly agreeable, ruggedly pure and impossibly patriotic." He wrinkled his nose, "And too pale by half." He added with a light laugh.

"Well, let us begin your Kathalan lesson with Edelweiß, shall we? Edel means 'noble'... The adverb, not the noun. The noun is Adel. And weiß, of course, means 'white'. Edelweiß: Noble white." He canted his head to the side, "Only half of which is like to assist you in a bakery, I suppose, so you should know that bread is 'Brot'. So, now you can order das Pumpernickel Brot und das Weißbrot auf Kathalisch." He smiled, nodding.

"Natürlich gibt es Süßspeise!" He replied, pausing before translating: "Of course there is dessert! Though, and I hope you'll not sell me out to my mother when I say this, but Zaichaer wins out when it comes to pastries in my opinion. Geleros makes a good showing, of course, but our Apfelstrudel? Our Sachertorte and Mohnzelten? Even our nonpareils are nonpareil." He punned.

"We shall meet there for coffee one of these days." It was delivered more as a statement of fact than an invitation. As much as they were seeing each other of late, it seemed a natural next step. A public place albeit intimate, and nothing so suggestive of intimacy as a dinner if they were only to indulge in coffee and pastries.

[Ursula Fletcher]

“It is quite the flower.”

This was quite nice, she thought. There’d been reservations. Ursula had worried that Zaichaer’s darling would be puffed up like some spring chicken. A man too beloved to find anything worthwhile outside himself. Brenner, despite the titles and attention, was clever and kind. Severe, yes, and proper.

Ursula did her best to parrot. She beat her tongue into strange shapes and felt the back of her throat with each word. It took her a few tries until she managed something not entirely embarrassing.

“...das Pumpernickel Brot und das Weißbrot auf Kathalisch.”

She winced at the end, frowning. It didn’t sound quite right. She tried again, slower.

“...das Pumpernickel Brot und das Weißbrot auf Kathalisch.”

Better, Ursula thought. Still, she wasn’t satisfied. It felt like she would have to swallow the whole of her tongue to echo Brenner. The language was so, well, foreign. It was popular, though, especially with the wealthier Zaichaeri. Imperial fashion was something that everyone seemed to emulate. It was, after all, them who popularized the corset.

Perhaps that’s why she’d refused to learn Kathalan when she was younger.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Commander Dornkirk,” Ursula said, her ears catching pink with embarrassment. “I hope I didn’t sound absolutely horrid. Kathalan is such a beautiful language and I am quite certain I didn’t do it any sort of justice. I’m glad you will be with me when I see this bakery of yours, so that I won’t accidentally offend anyone.”

A coy smile caught on Ursula’s lips, suddenly. “I enjoyed our game the other day, Commander Dornkirk. Would you have any interest in playing another?”

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"And just like a Dornkirk, edelweiß is an upjumped weed that took centuries to earn the respect of the upper classes." Brenner was struck by his own allusion. The more he thought about it, the more it tracked. The poor were not so picky with their wildflowers, so it had doubtless populated many a bouquet amongst the lower class before some king of yore plucked one for his lady wife on a hike through the hills and she adopted it as her personal symbol. Now it was a symbol of their land, as was a First Minister.

"You're doing well, just keep practising that R sound in 'Brot'. It is guttural. Errr..." The R rolled in his throat between the back of the tongue and the soft palate, not the frontward roll more common in other tongues. "Uvular." He clarified. "It is probably the most difficult sound to master in Kathalan for those raised on Common." He waved a hand in the air dismissing her worries.

"Keine Sorge. That means, 'No worries'. You might be surprised. Kathalan speakers here in Zaichaer tend to be more encouraging than critical- At least those amongst the working class, but that is nothing surprising, is it?" He cocked an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Happy to oblige, if you're keen to." He leaned over to nudge her shoulder with his own, as he grinned impishly. "And something tells me you already have a particular game in mind, hm?" He may not have known Ursula Fletcher well, yet. He still called her Miss Fletcher, as he'd feel awkward uttering her given name still, but he had the sense that he was beginning to get a sense of her. He hadn't done too terribly in their first game, after all, and that had been an introductory sort of exercise.

[Ursula Fletcher]

“I see no weeds in this garden.”

Ursula offered him a soft smile. She was struck by the comparison.

She’d spent the whole of her youth openly rejecting the approval of her peers. Ursula hadn’t cared, up until she decided it was time to grow up. And even now, given her name, her family’s position, there were few people who she tried to impress. There wasn’t any need. She supposed for Brenner things were more difficult. Or had been. Her mother mentioned similar challenges, when she was younger.

Money, her mother said, can buy you everything until it can.

“And thank you, kind sir!” Ursula giggled, “You may come to regret encouraging me. I might force you to be my language partner and practice with me for all hours.”

A few years ago she might’ve laughed at the idea. But Brenner Dornkirk was becoming one of the few people Ursula wanted to impress. It was strange. And stranger, considering what she suspected between Brenner and Myles. And stranger still, because she couldn’t unknot whatever feeling grew in her stomach.

Jealousy, she assumed, but of who. Was she jealous of Myles? Or of Brenner?

“I do - it is a fair bit riskier than our guessing game, but I am impressed by your humor and wit,” she smiled, “And have decided you to be a fair competitor.”

“I used to play it all the time, ask or tell,” she said. “Have you played it? The rules are simple: the other player must ask you to do something or you must tell a secret. Frivolous things, perhaps, but I do enjoy it. The loser, of course, is the first person to refuse an action or to run out of secrets to tell,” she paused, glancing at him shyly, “Does that sound enjoyable to you, Commander Dornkirk?”

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"A sign of changing times, that." Brenner replied with a faint, but warm grin upon his fair features. As the youngest Dornkirk (or at least the youngest ex-utero at the moment), he hadn't faced the same hurdles that his father or brother had. Each had made it a bit easier for him, but there were still bullies with hallowed names who'd tried to crush his spirit when he was a schoolboy. Some had even been the teachers. But look at him now. It was springtime for Dornkirk, and he was in full blossom.

"Not at all! I long for more opportunities to practice my mothertongue. I'm pleased to know you find it beautiful. There are many who do not." He noted with a chuckle, "I suspect that uvular R we discussed doesn't help matters much on that front, but here we are." He shrugged blithely, and sat back extending his legs and crossing them at the ankle with a contented sigh.

"A body could get used to this." He observed in the silent moment when Ursula was devising her game.

"Ha, I don't know that I have, but I think I've played some variation of it, at least, when I was a schoolboy." He nodded, "Very well. Just know that you are playing this game with a State official and some of my secrets are classified. I may have to fall on my sword and lose the game or else tell you something that would be dangerous for you to know." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows in a playfully menacing way.

"Beware that you might know too much. A garden is a prime spot to conceal snipers."

[Ursula Fletcher]

“Oh? Would you be so noble?” Ursula grinned, “You would die to save me for the world? And they said chivalry is dead.”

She laughed, “A garden can hide poison as well as any sniper. But, yes, for both our lives I will be careful with my questions.”

She mused to herself, privately. There were many questions she might ask the Commander. Rumors and other such nonsense she’d heard, were, of course, the first thing to come to mind. She thought of teasing him in some way or such but decided eventually that might be in poor taste. She enjoyed his company, and perhaps she might call him a friend, but they were first and foremost courting each other.

And there were rules.

“Tell first,” she said, smiling dangerously, “I’d like to know what your first impressions were of me.”

It was a petty vanity, but one she could afford to indulge in. It was natural to want to hear his thoughts, especially those that were of her. She wondered if there were other girls his family had chosen for him or if he had been excited to meet the Fletcher heiress or if he’d cared at all. She supposed it didn’t really matter, in the end.

Whatever he thought at the beginning, they were meeting today - and, she hoped, would again soon.

Ursula made a show of turning to him, meeting his eyes with hers, her hands primly kept over her lap.

“And don’t lie - not that I would assume you did. I would never cast such doubts upon you or your family,” she said, her tone playful.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Oh, no." Brenner sniggered, "I would not die over a game, but I would refuse to answer and accept my loss." He cleared his throat and sat upright, taking on a valorous pose with his hand to his chest, "But I would do so to save us both, and for the glory of the State." He settled back into a more comfortable repose, laughing at the silliness of his knightly character.

"Oh, you decide?" Brenner blinked a bit at that. He'd just assumed he would get to pick whether he asked or told, but perhaps the game different than the ones he'd played after all. He straightened his collar as he considered his response.

"My first impressions were, of course, aesthetic." He began, turning his eyes to regard her face. "That may sound ungentlemanly, but it is earnest because, before you spoke, what else was I to go on?" He took in a quick breath, pausing before he continued.

"I found you... quite comely. I immediately imagined what you might look like at my side and, well... I was not displeased with the outcome of that flight of fancy." He chuckled a bit, nervously. He'd been anxious during their last game, too. He felt so... exposed, like he was under one of Stefan's microscopes.

"The way your hair contrasts from your complexion... It's really very fetching. And then, when we got to speaking, I will admit I was a bit anxious that you would be... Simpler than you've proven to be. Not because you did anything wrong, but because I've found many girls in your set to be superficial. Why... When I attended the Angevin-Esterhazy wedding there were two young ladies who got into a drunken brawl over an handsome bloke near the bar. I had to scold them like children for that is how they behaved. So. I'm pleased you are not..." He gestured broadly, "Like that." He cleared his throat. "At. All."

[Ursula Fletcher]

Yes, she decided. The game, the questions, it was all Ursula’s decision.

Ursula decided to watch Brenner. She watched as he straightened his collar. She watched him turn his eyes to hers.

She smiled.

It was then, as he chuckled, that she decided that she would enjoy being courted by Commander Dornkirk. He was blushing. Or was it the early Glade cold that stung his skin, she wondered. She listened as his sentences dropped and he weaved his arms, wide, as if his gestures were any clearer than his words.

“I heard about that,” Ursula rolled her eyes, “And, they are. Superficial, which is a much kinder word than what I might use.”

It’d been Ellen Tisch and Alice Soule, fighting over Daniel Whitaker, same as they always did. Daniel, of course, was much obsessed with Thomas Davidson, who was very much interested in Ellen. Ursula wasn’t quite sure how Alice fit into their love triangle but she was quite sure no one involved wanted Alice to fit in at all.

“And, yes. I am quite beautiful,” she smirked, striking a pose, not unlike an old lady sitting for a portrait might -

- and she laughed like babbling brooks and spring blooms. “And, how lucky you are then, to have had me at your side today and still! Let it be known that Ursula Helene Fletcher is generous. And kind. And clever. And perhaps many more things that I simply do not have the time to list.”

She paused to give him an expectant look. “Well? It’s your turn, Commander Dornkirk.”