solar powered

Flora could barely hold back the genuine laugh that threatened to bubble up in her throat and she cleared it instead, unable to suppress a giggle. "Bad communication? Try no communication at all," she told her, rolling her eyes. Granted, her own relationships she could count on one hand and they hadn't been the best either but Marlon, she'd put trust into until she realized that they just didn't seem to even speak the same language most of the time. The words that followed, had her pause though and she didn't appreciate the way it made her stomach drop a little. She hadn't looked at it from that perspective - way too distracted by her own feelings and needs. She'd have to unpack that at some point but now definitely wasn't the time, Flora decided. Blinking at Lyra, she took in the flower. It was a gorgeous color. Rich and deep. A laugh escaped her fully this time. "He'd know all about it, you're right...and in his honor, I will just go for this one," she announced, almost sounding relieved.

He was not adapting well to this particular chat – in truth, he was fumbling the absolute shit out of it. “No, no, I know. Look, I know. You’re good at what you do, and I’m here,” he started, looking around the shop like she didn’t know exactly what here meant, “because I trust you.” Was he supposed to set the price? His eyes widened at the prospect. He could tell her exactly how much each piece had cost – he had stayed up half the night essentially cataloging what was left of his wardrobe and it’s respective value. But that had been at time of purchase – he didn’t know how much they lost out of season.

“I know,” he said, maybe too overeager. Too grateful and too terrible at expression gratitude. Her question drew him up short. Narcissists’ folly, he assumed people just knew. A gift and a curse – it saved him from conversations he didn’t want to have, but he was saved out of pity. Worse, Marlon had to rely on pity to make his way through it. He was almost completely still apart from the slight downturn of his mouth, lost of the current of terrible possibilities about how to answer a question that, he would like to note, wasn’t asked very kindly. He wanted to grab his shit and say this had been a bad idea and he didn’t know what he was thinking before he entirely tipped his hand. But Marlon was desperate, and quite literally couldn’t afford to, so instead, he sighed, his shoulders rounding out as he matched her tone. 

“Cut off is harsh,” he said, like it wasn’t exactly what had happened. “S’just for a little while. Not a huge deal.” He delivered the words like he meant them with every part of him, didn’t let them curve into a question. He was proud that he sounded like he believed it, even when all he wanted to do was gesture to the pile in front of her that he was selling and ask if that looked like he had his shit together. The Marlon who had his shit together donated things and never thought of them again, or let his friends go through and take their pick. That had been better. 

She had no idea what was going on and not in a million years had Flora expected to see Marlon here, in her family’s shop. The words that streamed out next surprised her and once again, Flora was bad at trying to hide that fact. She blinked back at Marlon, wordlessly, brows pulling together as if she was just waiting for him to keep fumbling.

Another part of Flora felt for him – clearly he had no idea how this would go down and maybe it was mean of her not to give him the usual pointers she’d give any other customer but she was trying to figure out in what league he was playing right now. Whether or not this was a necessity or just a way to get back in touch. Though, Flora knew him well enough to know that it was likely the former of the two. Maybe she was being a little hard on him but there was also the sentiment of genuine surprise ringing in her tone.

“You got a time frame?” Flora asked, lips twitching and curling into a slight smile in her amusement. “I’m sorry, it’s just really, really hard to imagine…that’s all,” she explained in a mumble. “But hey, if this isn’t permanent, maybe keep this one,” Flora said, tapping her fingers on one of the garments. “You liked that one,” she added, tilting her head at him before she tried taking in the rest of the clothes, peeling them back carefully to take a better look. “How much were you thinking for all of these? And remember…thrift store.” She dragged out the syllables for emphasis, not yet looking back up to meet his eyes.

Flora couldn't hold back a laugh at the mental image and was quick to nod with intent. "I'm right there with you. I wouldn't hurt a fly - for the most part but at this point, I think I've had enough of a build up to seriously consider it," she admitted. There was only truth in her words. Flora liked to think that she was a rather diplomatic person, as long as she didn't hold a grudge but ultimately, she could only agree with Lyra. With another chuckle, Flora gave another nod. "That's a good point, you're right about that," she told her, shrugging. "I guess that has just never been mine - I'm not judging anyone for it but I did date someone who didn't really get that this wasn't going to be the way to win me over. So I got gifts and don't get me wrong, it's nice to get gifts but I guess I just need more than a sparkle sometimes," Flora admitted, shrugging with a sigh. "It sounds better in theory but once you don't get an apology but a gift? That's when I'm over it," she added before grinning back at Lyra. "Aren't those the kinds of artists that are the most fun and creative?" She half-joked. "It's working. Whatever you're doing, it's enough to convince me," Flora told her, a genuine grin on her lips.

Flora often found the connection she had with her family to be both, a blessing and a curse. In a way, she would always be deeply grateful to be loved in such a way by them but at the same time, it could feel a little suffocating. Roswell was all she’d ever known and she liked it enough to stick around but every now and then a little voice in her head echoed, wondering if maybe she was destined for something greater. Nonetheless, Flora was aware of her privilege and tried not to sound too ungrateful whenever she did end up complaining about it. “Oh – just some new patterns and things. Nothing too exciting for now, I’m just trying to come up with something that’ll look nice but I’ve been so busy with the shop that I’ve barely had the time to sit down and just design, you know?” Flora sighed but was also aware that her lack of inspiration lately was also to blame. In reality, she was still waiting for that spark to come and while she knew it would eventually, it was also frustrating to not be able to just do it. Humming as she stretched her arms lightly, Flora nodded in understanding. “Her and me, both. I swear, spring will revive whatever creative slump I’m in – and the flowers always help, too so I should thank both of you for that probably,” she said happily.

The Mathis’ were meant to see the error of their ways, that he hadn’t been doing that badly. That he was still going to make something of his life – he’d just wanted to use his mid-20′s to figure himself out. The argument hadn’t worked on his parents, because his version of figuring it out looking a lot like blowing through his trust and throwing parties in just about any place he could. Somewhere after high school – maybe even during, if he were being reflective – his problem solving skills whittled down to ‘throw money at it.’ Now he was more problems than money, and his parents had only just come around to the prospect of potentially giving him the gate code for 'emergencies.' They knew their son – and that boredom was as great an emergency as life threatening injury to Marlon.

Flora too, it seemed, knew Marlon too well. She was giving him a look, and he was receiving it with as little grace as he'd come in with – which was to say, absolutely none. "'Hi, Marlon, it's nice to see you, you look great'," he said, pitching his voice up in a terrible imitation of her own. "I am, by the way – offended." He flashed a smile that immediately belied his words, but it still didn't land quite right. Was there a graceful way to cull your dignity? To lay the last of it down in front of your ex with a handful of jackets that had, when they were in season, cost what equated to a more than a year's worth of his current rent? No, he thought. And if there were some expert who could coach him on it, he couldn't afford it. Life was karmically unfair, and whatever higher power was responsible for Marlon was an asshole.

He draped the garment bags carefully over her arms, saying a silent (maybe) tentative farewell as he did. "Attic?" He asked, only seeming to register her question once his clothes were out of his possession. "You know these can't go in an attic, right? They need somewhere temperature controlled. And dry – that's important. Seriously, like, ninety percent of that pile can't get wet without being like, irrevocably fucked up." With his words, he saw his own hand reaching toward the stack, some deeply-rooted autonomous will to reclaim them before they could be mistreated. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. He attempted – too late – to play it cool. He pulled his hand back, resting his arm on the counter like that had been the intention all along. "I mean," he cleared his throat, a gesture just as natural as his pose. "Gotta make room for new stuff, right? And I thought, let me help out Flora, give the place some new inventory." He registered that that sounded a lot like donate, when what Marlon needed to do was sell. "You guys buy stuff, right? Not that I like, need it, need it, but you know. The gift shop pays what it pays and a man's gotta eat."

It had been the main problem that had occurred after they’d started dating – that Marlon wasn’t good with words while Flora liked to talk things out. She’d talk and talk without feeling like she was being heard and it was then when she realized that maybe, just maybe the two of them had made a mistake moving on from friends to lovers after so many years of knowing each other. Of course, dating a rich guy had its perks. She liked the parties and she liked the gifts – she’d kept them, of course – but Flora’s love language had never been gifts. It had been things that Marlon couldn’t seem to give to her and so she’d called it quits.

Giving a huff, Flora suppressed the urge to roll her eyes once again, almost gasping in offense at the terrible mimicking of her voice. “Oh, I’m sorry – you are offended? You just called my parents’ shop cozy and you have the nerve to come here with a bunch of your rich boy clothes, so I think if anything, it should be you telling me you’re happy to see me and that I look great because if I’m getting this right, you need a favor from me and not the other way around,” she shot back.

She watched the way he handled the bags so very carefully and once again, she wasn’t sure whether she should take pity on him or send him away with both their hands and pockets empty. Letting out a sigh and finally allowed herself another roll of her eyes, Flora let her head tip back. “Yes, Marlon, I am aware how some clothes and fabrics need to be stored. I work here and I’m a seamstress, remember? But don’t worry, this place might be cozy but it’s not like we’re occupying the sewers – Jesus.” Squinting, Flora wasn’t exactly sure if she was buying this act. Something felt off, she just couldn’t put a finger on it. First, he’d moved into her apartment building and now he was selling his clothes? She didn’t comment on it – not yet – but it caused some kind of alert to switch on in her mind. “Ever so generous…,” she mumbled, reaching over to tug at one of the bags to get it closer to her. “You realize that we’re a thrift store, yeah?” Flora asked as if to make sure Marlon knew what kind of deal he was in for. “I gotta see what you got and what kind of money you want first,” she told him before biting her lower lip, as if to hold her words back before they streamed out nonetheless. “You work and pay rent now?! Wow – did momma and poppa Mathis finally cut you off for good?” It was a joke, she was giggling as she said it while busying herself with opening the bag stacked over the counter but she was quick to fall silent before she squinted at him once more, leaning in a little as she lowered her voice. “Wait – did they cut you off or did you finally get your shit together?”

who: flora summers where: better off duds

The day Marlon Mathis had to start going through his closet to consign some of his clothes was a bad day. So bad, in fact, that it had taken about three months worth of bad days to get around to it. But rent was coming up, and he didn’t have to look at his bank account to know he was going to come up a few hundred dollars short. He considered, briefly, calling his parents. His pride had fallen far enough to land him at a minimum wage job and quite literally in a dumpster, but somehow, calling up the senior Mathis’ felt like the real rock bottom. 

They hadn’t wanted him to fail, they insisted. The opposite, his mom said – they were cutting him off so he had any chance of succeeding. But to Marlon, success didn’t look like Top Ramen and an apartment with walls so thin he was half-convinced he could hear his neighbors thoughts. Success certainly didn’t look like garment bags carefully hung in the back of his car, knowing damn well his very beloved, dry clean only clothes were probably going to find their way into the home of someone who would never appreciate them properly, and dry them on high heat. At the thought, he considered turning around, and telling his roommates he’d make up the difference next month. 

The grieving of his wardrobe occupied too much of his thought process for him to realize he was driving toward the next rung on the ladder toward rock bottom. It wasn’t until he put the car in park that he realized he’d pulled in beside Flora's car. Of course he was beside Flora’s car, because she worked here. He was going at this rate, he may as well have announced a citywide tour to announce the death of dignity. He grumbled as much aloud as he got the garment bags out of his car, carefully draping each one over his arm more delicately than he would've carried a living, breathing person. He carried them to the door with just as much care, making sure even the bags didn't so much as touch another surface.

When he spotted Flora, he tried to offer a casual smile, like this wasn't a place he wouldn't have even been caught dead in a year ago. "Hey Flo. How goes it? Nice place you got here," he said, looking around – even as the slight crease between his brows betrayed his already blithe small talk. His words came with the same air of confidence he'd been silver-spoon born with – but it sounded a whole lot less convincing when he was loaded down with clothes he'd loved well enough to make sure made it to Aurora Apartments instead of locked in a house he no longer even knew the gate code to.

The moment her eyes fell on Marlon’s familiar figure, it all started to make sense though. She’d tried her best to boot him from her mind but it turned out that sometimes it paid out to move away from home and away from those you’ve known and seen around all your life because eventually, the lines get blurred and you let them get a little too close for comfort if you’re not meant to be one of those white picket fence family parents that met in kindergarten and grew up to be forever sweethearts. Marlon and her most definitely hadn’t been that and her eyes narrowed in suspicion when he approached the counter she was standing behind.

She wasn’t sure what this was about – if this was about them or her or just the clothes Marlon had the nerve to bring in. They’d never quite made the right turn back to their starting point. After their inevitable breakup they’d almost become estranged and she’d barely seen him around since then. The joke had started a few months ago though, when she’d noticed that he’d moved into her apartment building. Aside from the few awkward waves and nods, they hadn’t had the chance – or frankly, the interest – to get into it too much.  

It was almost comical. The way Marlon made his way over and she huffed, trying her best to hold back a roll of her eyes as her arms crossed in front of her chest. “It’s going,” she replied, tilting her head. “Thanks – we make it work,” Flora mumbled, brows still pulled together in distrust. She’d never been good at hiding how she felt about others. Her features always gave her away but with Marlon, it wasn’t that she was trying all that hard. He could know that she wasn’t exactly over the moon seeing him. She couldn’t help but sneak a peek and look at the bags of clothes he was carrying. “No offense but…this is the last place I expected to see you around,” she admitted, sighing as she held out her arms in a silent offer to accept the clothes. “So – what are those? Did you raid your parents’ attic or did it finally click that one singular guy doesn't actually need a million different jackets and shirts in his closet?”

"Oh and society continues to say stupid things every single day, so it's a really messed up upward trend," Flora agreed, a deep breath leaving her lungs. Unfortunately for her otherwise rather free spirit, Flora allowed a lot of things to tie her down. Opinions. Strange looks and whispered words. The only thing that it didn't seem to affect was her fashion sense. Maybe it came with her parents' legacy, the desire to fit in and be liked around town but ultimately, Flora craved some more freedom at times, even if she was being her very own captor. Her glance softened and she couldn't help but feel a little silly saying what followed. "But diamonds are very pretty," she reasoned before chuckling. "You're right though, I wouldn't be impressed if I got a super expensive ring when it could've been a cheap one. I'd rather have my future spouse invest that money into something more sustainable," she added before shrugging. "I think there are other ways for someone to make another person feel cherished. With that Flora, frowned and looked around again. "I'm reading too many magazines when I get bored," she admitted before she blinked, looking over at Lyra as if she'd just invented fire and the wheel all over again. "How did I miss that...?" She mumbled, taking a step forward to get a closer look at the flowers. "You're a genius. An actual genius."

A groan escaped Flora at the reminder that summer wasn't going to be there any time soon. While it was a cliché, given her name and the fact that she had in fact been a summer baby, she adored few things more than the sensation of the warm rays of sun hitting her face again after what felt like too long. The cold bit at her skin, making her rub her hands together in an attempt to warm up a little now that she was standing out there with Meilani. With a tilt of her head, Flora smiled. "Maybe but you tell me again once it gets you," she joked lightheartedly, not really scolding but in a way, she'd always been the kind of person some would call a mom friend. She wanted everyone in her circle to be okay and healthy, so this was no exception. A gentle expression washed over Flora's features and in a way, she was glad that she'd walked by just in what felt like the right moment. "They're a pest," she noted before shrugging lightly, a chuckle falling from her lips when they started walking, side by side with Meilani. "I've been okay - the same old, same old," she told her genuinely. "I've been trying to work on a new collection for my website while also helping them with the new arrivals and people trying to start fresh with an empty closet," she joked, humming as she pulled her jacket around herself a little more. "So they're fine, too - always working too hard, as always. How's the store?" Flora asked in return, hoping to distract the other from her wandering mind.

Flora chuckled and gave a shrug. "I'm sure it'll either show up when you least expect it or you can just get a new pack - either way, I got you for now," she assured as she let Elisa in, trying not to worry too much about how she was definitely not dressed for any contact with society and her apartment was slightly disheveled from her working over time instead of taking care of it. It was only human after all and she was sure - or hopeful at least - that her neighbor wouldn't mind too much. Her words were quick to confirm this for her and Flora let out a relieved breath. "I'll take these down later, I haven't been home all that long...you know how it is sometimes," she told her apologetically. Normally, Flora had her apartment in order, only a few spots here and there that weren't pristine, mostly because she'd been working on something there but lately, she seemed to have lost track a bit. A new year meant new collections and people cleaning out their closets but she was sure that once that settled, she'd be back on it before she knew it. "Ooooh what kind of sauce are you making? I need some inspiration, honesty - it's like all I've been consuming has been pizza or takeaway," she admitted under a laugh. "And pasta is always a good idea, I think."

Caught off-guard by the question, Flora shrugged. "Society?" She offered, an almost apologetic smile tugging on the corners of her lips. Granted, no one had ever said it to her face that she couldn't do this but in the way it was portrayed and frowned upon by some, she felt like that applied to her as well. Flora was trying not to care so much about what others thought these days - emphasis on trying. It was a blessing and a curse, caring so deeply about so many things. The way she was perceived around her hometown but also in general. It was a process but one Flora was happy to go through. It wasn't always easy for her to change her ways but ultimately, Flora would get there. "It does and listen - it is. I don't know who came up with it but I'm going to keep breaking it again and again," she insisted with a small grin before humming thoughtfully, eyes scanning over the different options once more. "You're right. I love colors but I thought maybe it'd make my space seem a little more...," she trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Sophisticated? I don't know, I'm more of a mixed patterns kind of girl though." Flora sighed. "I never looked at it that way," she said, looking over at the other woman. "You have a point. Blue it is!" She announced excitedly, a beam spreading across her features.

Mirroring Meilani's faint smile, Flora tilted her head at her, as if she waited for the realization to set in that maybe laying out on the cold ground wasn't the best way to spend her time. Not that she was judging, Flora was rarely judgmental at all but she was always quick to worry about the people she was familiar with. She hummed in understanding when the other seemed to catch up with her point and she chuckled softly, extending a hand towards Meilani to help her up if needed. "I get that. Well, not that I'd know, I've never been to a bigger city for longer than a weekend getaway or a workshop but hey, it's been getting warmer and warmer each day but I don't want you getting sick out here," she told her. "It's so much nicer to stargaze when it's a summer night." Flora sighed. "God...I really miss those." After a moment, she turned back to Meilani again. "Are you good? I didn't mean to interrupt or be a bother - I just wanted to check in."

With the fact that both of them had lived in Roswell their entire lives and they didn’t differ much in age, Elisa had welcomed the familiar face into the apartment building quite happily. Familiar faces were always good to have around. Because that meant that if Elisa ever was in the situation she was in right now, she could knock on the other’s door. “I know, I know, it is a very, very big cliche. But I was preparing my food for the night and I realised that I’m all out of salt and well… My food is in dire need of some salt. Because otherwise I will have to rely on take out once more and I’m not sure if my wallet or my body will agree with that.”