❝ I can't save us ❞
in which the Foxling and the Codfather exchange
trades, looks, and blue orchids in a world of war,
death, and political alliances.
❝ my Atlantis ❞
( male!oc x solidarity )
( empires smp...
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FORGOTTEN ORCHIDS | CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
IT WOULD BE A WEEK before Atticus could comfortably move around on his own. The skin of his chest was still tender, and it hurt to breathe when he moved too fast, but it was a relief to be able to walk around without someone at his side to watch him in case he fell. As much as he enjoyed Jane's company, sometimes he just needed time for himself; tending to the garden was a compromise with her. It allowed him to move around privately without straining himself, though there was a guard posted nearby in case Atticus needed help.
As if he would ever cry out for help. He would rather crawl across Vulpesterra on broken legs than admit that he was weak.
Atticus was delighted to find that the roses were in full bloom, petals stretching toward the sun despite the cold that surrounded them. There was frost coating the ground—it was a miracle the plants hadn't shriveled in on themselves with how Atticus had neglected to care for them as of late. Sure, he had an excuse or two, but none of them would hold up to his own standards.
As he always did, Atticus kept his back turned to the entrance to the gardens, even with the underlying paranoia that it would lead to someone sneaking up to kill him. For once, he was right.
Well, about the sneaking up on him part. He wasn't sure Jimmy quite had the motive to kill him yet.
"You should be resting."
Atticus nearly jumped out of his skin, feeling his heart skip a few beats—and decidedly not because it was Jimmy who had shown up. He pursed his lips as he heard Jimmy trying not to laugh behind him, clearly having seen Atticus' reaction; it was a relief, at least, that Jimmy was in good spirits around him.
Atticus got to his feet, taking the time to brush dirt off his pants before he turned to face Jimmy. He went to speak, then paused, coming up with nothing of value—though Jimmy would have hung on to every word he said anyway. Shrugging, Atticus sighed and stepped forward, pulling Jimmy by his arm into a hug.
Jimmy stayed still for a moment, freezing in place, before gathering the courage to return the hug. Atticus was the perfect height for Jimmy to rest his chin on Atticus' head; he did so, after a moment, and let himself relax into the embrace that he hadn't expected. Atticus didn't seem eager to let go, either.
"You didn't tell me you were visiting," Atticus pointed out, reluctantly stepping out of the hug.
"I thought you were still resting," Jimmy admitted. "Lady Jane directed me out here."
Atticus rolled his eyes fondly, shaking his head. "Of course, she did." He pushed a stray curl behind his ear, trying to decide what to say. Surely Jimmy's arrival signaled forgiveness for Atticus' persistence . . . weeks ago? Atticus had lost track of time. It was hard to follow it when there were so many things to take care of.
