Aster pulls sticks and leaves out of his hair, huffing and trying to shake out his messy cults that were by now long enough to cover his eyes again, trailing down his nape enough to tickle the beginning of his back.
Eventually, he decides to give up on the endeavor, even though he's certain there are a few more small twigs and whatever else stuck in his fluffy crown atop his head.
Instead, he puts his efforts into walking, trying to appear confident in his strides down the afternoon streets of London. It wasn't hard to do, really, considering he was relatively tall. So long as he didn't hunch his back, he'd be fine, he decides.
He passes a certain institute on his way, pausing a while to look at it. The Magnus Archives. Rose had warned him to be cautious of that place. Not fearful, but weary. And in Rose he trusted, in the end. Still, he couldn't deny the fact that occasionally he found an interest in the place. He knew what it was, or course. Knew what inhabited it like a sort of vacation home, in a way. Rose was right to be careful. Especially with their shared...predicaments, to put it lightly. And so, despite his curiosity, he willed himself to move along, knowing the feeling wasn't whole and entirely his own, even if it was in part.
A leasurely 20 minutes walk further down the street, he ends up finding a curious looking shop named the 'Whistling Wisteria' and decides to have a look around inside. His home here was indeed in need of some more greenery, after all, and despite his recent struggles, he managed to not lose the money that was hidden away somewhere in his leather Letterman bag.
He finds himself invited by a small bell at the top of the door that gave a pleasant ring. A few paces ahead, between multible towering pots, sprung up the head of a sweet, brunette lady. She waves, and he waves back, before dissapearing, too, somewhere in the foliage.
The shop, white quaint and unassuming from the outside, was stacked wall to wall with all sorts of plants, big and small, shelves deviding the space even more. It was truly like a secret little greenhouse, in a way, smelling faintly of petricore and earth.
He decides he must visit this place more often, and begins at the back of the shop, slowly scanning over the showcased plants, dropping into a crouch every once and again to view a particular one for a while, gently lifting leaves to check the underneath for more information on the health of it.
So far, only another elderly lady is somewhere on the other side of the store from him, and neither bother one another, focused on their own search. Quietly, music plays from somewhere by the register. Something slow and purely instrumental. He smiles to himself, thinking the plants must like it as much as he does.
[Doe only showed up to the shop as a weekend endeavor.]
[Ever since what happened with Jon, they haven't been able to sleep much. The TV hasn't been numbing their brain, music just adds brain fog, and silence makes their thoughts too loud. So, she's decided to go get plants. They'd make the place look nice.]
[The bell rings as Doe comes in, and- holy moly this place has more plants than they thought. This'll be sure to take up their time. Thank goodness there's only.... 2 other people here. One's an old lady, and the other is... in the back. They look kind of familiar. And there's sticks and such in their hair. Oh well, it'd be awkward to pry. She's in no place to judge. Off to searching she goes.]
