Hubert leisurely walks into the greenhouse at the Monastery. He nearly chuckles remembering how Bernadetta would scream and cower at the sight of him invading her sanctuary away from the others. Over the years and through out the war they have come to a bit of an understanding between them. Bernadetta has even gone so far as to assist in the care of his more particular plants. Her green thumb is certainly more impressive than his thumbs, stained with dark magic they are more black than anything. What takes him weeks to cultivate into barely leafed twigs, she impressively inspires the plants to grow by leaps and bounds, exceeding his expectations. The heavy, full, blooms on the nightshade are quite impressive.
The greenery of the mandrake is dark green and luscious. Soon he will be able to harvest another and grind it carefully to extract its juice.
As if his thoughts have summoned her to the greenhouse, the door shuts behind the purple haired woman as she hums to herself heading to the rear of the building.
“Good evening, Bernadetta. It is a pleasure to see you again.” Hubert says with a bow.
“Oh! Hello Hubert. I was not expecting you. Is there something I can help you with?” The shy girl no longer screams and runs at his presence, however she is still wary and stands where she feels is a safe distance from his person.
“I have been admiring your handiwork, my dear. Everything you have touched in this room has blossomed and grown immeasurably. I do believe you have a magical touch when it comes to flowers and greenery.” Hubert showers his honest praise upon her.
“Bernie doesn’t do anything special.” She curls in upon herself, nervously pulling at the bottom of her skirt.
“Before you came to my aid, most of these were nothing but sticks containing the barest touch of green.” Hubert explains softly, his voice deep and low. “Now they are full and flush with leaves and greenery, healthier than any of Ferdinand’s horses!”
Bernadetta blushes at the compliment, hiding her face behind her hands.
“Certainly you must be casting some sort of magic upon my flowers. Whatever could it be, hmmm?” Hubert places a finger under her chin, lifting her face so that he may peer into her eyes. “Perhaps when you sing, they are drawn to your voice, reaching out to its enthralling call. I find myself sharing the same sentiments when I perchance spy upon you serenading the greenery.”
Bernadetta focuses her own eyes on Hubert’s. As their gaze meets, she feels a tingle of anticipation down her spine. “You do?” she whispers as she watches his face draw closer to hers. She closes her eyes and holds still, waiting. She feels his breath soft and warm upon her cheek. She nearly jumps at the feel of his cool lips upon hers, pressing together soft yet firmly. Her stomach is alive with a thousand butterflies as she can feel the blood thrumming through her veins until the connection ends.
Hubert gently grasps the upper arm of a wavering Bernadetta who finally opens her eyes. “Yes, you have a certain magic about you Bernadetta. Perhaps you will allow me to spend some time with you to study it further?”
