Walk among the flowers (Musa Dolce)

[braeden]

Braeden had sent a musical message to Jordan the moment he awakened this sunny morning. He was asking if his Musa Dolce would enjoy taking a walk through the freshly blooming gardens in the Courtyard. And that if she would like to do so, meet him by the big fountain in the Courtyard shortly after breakfast. Braeden had prepared for any answer for he wasn't sure how she would respond. He dressed in his favorite pair of faded blue jeans, a pair of plain black Doc Martin brand muggle boots, and a white and blue pull over collared shirt. He added a white carnation to a small button hole that as just below the collar. Looking at his outfit in the mirror, Braeden smiled, hoping Jordan would approve of it. He made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Just a quick breakfast and he would head out to the Courtyard to wait for the beautiful Musa Dolce.

Making sure that he had grabbed a book to pass the time while he waited patiently to see if Jordan would show up for their walk or not, Braeden found himself a comfortable spot under a shade tree near the fountain. He sat down, pulling his book out of his pocket, opened it and began to let himself get lost in the world that the book held inside. Braeden could always easily get lost in the pages of a book. That and music were the only two things in life that he thought he was really good at. As quickly as the world around him began to disappear and a new one take shape, Braeden was pulled out of his trance by the most beautiful sounding voice in the world.

[Jordan Elizabeth Cortes]

“Lace.” “Ew. No.” “Puce coloured lace.” “Jordan, stop!” Jordan giggled as Vanessa threw a slipper at her from her four poster and then looked down at the magazine again. Jordan was, unsuccessfully, trying to persuade her friend in making her bridesmaid dresses an ungodly colour. Vanessa was too smart for that, and Jordan found it amusing when she got her feathers ruffled. Jordan was happy for Vanessa and Jeremiah, especially since she knew Vanessa had gone through a lot of bad things in her life and deserved this bout of happiness. She couldn’t think of a time when Vanessa was any happier. Jordan sighed, she couldn’t think of a time when she was any happier, either. She looked at herself in her mirror, deciding her outfit was done (although not perfect). She wore a flowing black skirt that danced around a little bit past her knees, and black flip flops with a small heel. Her shirt was a white ruffled top that had a picture of a yellow sun on it. The sleeves reached a little below her shoulders and it scrunched up around her stomach. She wore black dangle earrings and a white daisy was tucked behind her ear, with her brown hair flowing around her. “Going somewhere?” Vanessa asked as Jordan grabbed her art back and headed toward the exit of the dormitory. She merely wriggled her eyebrows and then left the dorm to head to the courtyard to meet her Piano Man.

Within moments she was walking out of the castle into the courtyard where the flowers were blooming and the sun was shining. She took a moment to look around, remembering the night she had cried by the bench and Justin had found her. That seemed so long ago. So very long ago. She let out a small sigh before she turned to look around for Braeden. It only took her a moment and when she saw him, a smile crossed her face. He was reading, and he looked absolutely perfect. Jordan shifted the weight of her art bag from her right shoulder to her left as she walked up to him. He didn’t seem to realize she was approaching, because he kept reading. Jordan took this and used it to her advantage. She leaned over his shoulder and read the words that were on the top of the page in the book he was reading. “Brother, I am fire/ surging under ocean floor./ I shall meet you, brother -/ Not for years, anyhow;/ Maybe thousands of years, brother./ Then I shall warm you,/ Hold you close, wrap you in circles,/ Use you and change you-/ Maybe thousands of years, brother.” She didn’t move after she had read the poem, she just stood behind Braeden; mulling this over in her mind. Finally, she sat down beside him so she was facing him, her legs in the opposite direction of his. “I didn’t know you like poetry. Hmm,” Jordan kicked her legs out as she gripped the bench with her hands, “I guess you really do learn something every day.”

[braeden]

Braeden smiled as he heard Jordan’s voice. Closing his book and turning to look at her, he laughed. “I guess that is true, Musa Dolce. I have enjoyed poetry for a few years. It was something my mother started.” Braeden said as he thought back to the first time he had ever read poetry. “She used to read me a different poem every night before bed. It was her way of reading my siblings and I what she thought were fulfilling bed time stories. My sisters enjoyed it, my brother hated it, and I thought it was compelling, kind of like the music she listened too.” He felt so comfortable around Jordan still that talking to her about simple things like traditions his mother had started when they, that was his siblings and he, were younger. He didn’t think he could talk to anyone about those kinds of things anymore. “She still insists on reading a poem every evening after dinner.” He laughed.

Taking the time to look, Braeden noticed the outfit Jordan was wearing. It looked simple, simple but elegant at the same time. He wondered how she could always make a simple outfit look so amazing. “You look amazing.” He said as he noticed the daisy in her hair. Looking around, Braeden didn’t see any other white daisies, so he turned to put his book back in his bag, and conjured up a bouquet of white, blue and yellow daisies tied together with a simple white ribbon. He stood, turned back to Jordan, and pulled the bouquet from behind his back, “These are for you, my Musa Dolce.” He hoped she didn’t mind the sound of the possessiveness when he called her his sweet muse. He just wouldn’t be able to stand hearing anyone else call her that. But he couldn’t tell her what it would do to him, how it would crush his very heart and soul to hear someone else consider her their sweet muse. That was his nickname for her. He smiled at Jordan. “Shall we begin our walk?” He asked as he picked up his bag, and reached his hand out to help Jordan up from the bench, as well as offer to take her bag for her. Braeden couldn’t help but to offer to be a complete gentleman for Jordan, it wasn’t something he did for every girl, but Jordan made him feel special, made him feel noticed and as if the whole world could be his if he tried hard enough. Being friends with her, and having the feelings in his heart that he held for her made him feel like he could fly without a broom if he only put his mind to it. The only thing he hadn’t been able to do; wasn’t even sure if he could; was to tell Jordan how he felt about her. He couldn’t figure out if it was the fear that she didn’t feel the same way about him or if he was afraid that it would cause some awkwardness between their friendship. Either way, he knew that he had to eventually tell her, that was the bottom line to it all. He had to tell her, but how; when? The answers would surely come when the time was right.



((For the love of Merlin, I'm so sorry that this has taken me two days to get posted when it was written already. You know how RL is for me.))

[Jordan Elizabeth Cortes]

Jordan smiled softly at Braeden as he spoke about his mother and how she used to read him and his siblings a poem every night. Her smile had dimmed slightly, when he said that his mother still made it a point to read a poem every night after dinner. It made her miss her own mother ever so much. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and grinned, “That’s something special. The only thing I have that’s like that would be coming home from school every afternoon and seeing all the furniture pushed aside in the living room to form a makeshift ballroom. My mother would be teaching Carlos how to dance and my father would be off to the side before he realized I was watching. From there I would learn the same steps.” Jordan shrugged as she kicked her legs out again, “My whole family has competed in Latin ballroom competitions, and my mother was one of the best.” The little fact that her mother had passed down the dancing to Jordan and her brother’s wasn’t one that was uncommon. Plenty people knew that her mother had been a great dancer and that she had died in a car accident, along with her husband. Jordan chewed on her lip as she wondered if Braeden knew this. If he did, she wouldn’t make it into a huge deal; it had happened in third year and she had gotten over it, but did someone really get over a death? No. Not really, not completely. They just adjusted to it, didn’t they? Well, at least, Jordan had.

She looked down at her skirt when Braeden complimented her, “Oh, thanks,” she looked back up and smiled, “I figured I should look my best. It’s not every day I get invited for a walk through the courtyard.” Jordan smiled again as she swung her legs back and forth, with her hands still gripping the edge of the bench. She was enjoying just talking with Braeden, but she was anxious to get the walk going. Jordan found that if she was moving, she could talk about a lot more things than if she were sitting around. She always had to be constantly doing something or another or else she drove herself insane. Jordan beamed as Braeden gave her a bouquet of daisies. She took them before taking out her wand, “They’re gorgeous,” she told him with a small smile before flicking her wand and causing the daisies to spin over them separately before making their way to the Hufflepuff seventh year dormitories where they would find a vase to nestle inside. Her mind returned to what he had called her, and another small smile crossed her face. It didn’t bother her one bit that he had called her his Musa Dolce. It wasn’t like she would ever be anyone else’s.

Jordan took his hand and stood from the bench while contemplating what to do with her bag. A bright smile crossed her face when Braeden offered to take it, well, that solved that problem. They walked in silence for a moment, and then Jordan couldn’t handle it. She looked over at Braeden casually before grinning at the look on his face, “A sickle for your thoughts, Piano Man?”

[braeden]

Braeden snapped out of the trance that his feelings for Jordan had put him in when she spoke again. “Oh, umm. I was just..” he said brokenly. Come on Braeden, pull it together. It’s not like your brothers are around to tease you if they hear you. You can do this, don’t blurt it out, but just gently tell her how you feel about her. Tell her everything that’s on your mind, while you still can. He coaxed himself into it. “ I was just thinking of how being with you makes me feel.” Braeden was shocked that he had just blurted it out the way that he did, but he was glad that it had come out. He looked at Jordan, hoping that she hadn’t took it the wrong way.

Picking up a small flower along the walk, he handed it to her. “I mean, I have never been around someone that makes me feel so special, so wanted. It’s like when I’m around you, I know anything is truly possible with or without magic. Inspiration comes from the heart, but only when you’re around. It’s like I could do anything, including fly without even having to use a broom.” Braeden was shocked that it was all pouring out the way it was, but saying it was relieving him more than Jordan would realize. He didn’t think he could hold it in any longer anyway. It was as if his feelings had began to become a burden until he could get them out.

Adjusting the bags on his shoulder, he looked over at Jordan, wondering what was going through her mind now that she knew how he felt. He hoped that she felt the same way too, but he couldn’t be sure. The silence returned but Braeden wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.


((Sorry it's a bit short. It was all Braeden could get out after confessing his soul.))

[Jordan Elizabeth Cortes]

There are few instances in Jordan’s life that she can say made time freeze. There was once when she was four and she saw her mother dancing for the first time. There was another when she received her first sketchbook. The most memorable was when she was at her parents’ funeral and watching the coffins being lowered into the ground. The moments were a mixed kind. Happy moments were when she saw her mother dancing and when she received her first sketchbook, and the sad moment was when she watched her parents getting lowered. Jordan had gained things from all three of these moments, and she hadn’t expected another one of those moments to come along. But as she walked beside Braeden and patiently awaited his answer, she looked to her left and saw a butterfly flutter past her and land on a blooming flower where it fluttered its wings ever so slowly. The world itself seemed to slow as the wings slowed. Jordan felt herself smile and she had to turn to Braeden when he started to talk again. His words were not ones that she was expecting, but she didn’t really reel from them. She didn’t feel anything negative from them, in fact, she took comfort from them. Jordan tilted her head as she tried to think of a response to that, but before she could respond; he was talking again. He was explaining what he meant.

She fixed her gaze forward as she crossed her arms and listened to him intently, with the flower he had given her twirling in between her right thumb and forefinger. When he had finished, Jordan didn’t say anything, and she knew that probably wasn’t helping him any, but she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t, really, even know what he was saying. Jordan hated confusion, because it disturbed her ability to draw and draw well. Being confused came upon horrid drawings and ugliness that wasn’t art, at least not to her. Some people might consider the scratched out drawings art. Art of anger. Jordan was not one of those people. She sighed, and continued to twirl the flower between her fingers, “What exactly are you saying, Braeden? I mean… do you just see me as inspiration?” Jordan, deep down, knew that wasn’t what he meant but she couldn’t help but ask. It sounded like that was what he meant, and because Jordan didn’t know what exactly he meant… she needed to ask. Now, she looked over at him with questions in her eyes, “Or is there more to it?”

[braeden]

Braeden worried as Jordan grew quiet. Did she perceive what he said the way it came out, or the way he really meant it? He couldn’t believe that he couldn’t be plainer about what he said. He had really turned what he had meant to say into something completely wrong. He did like having inspiration, but that wasn’t what made him feel the way he did with Jordan. He loved having her around, not just for the inspiration that she gave him. But how was he, a young man, to tell the woman that he loved this without totally freezing up mid sentence. Braeden looked into the beautiful eyes of his beloved Musa Dolce, wishing that she could only see how he truly felt about her. But there was no way for that to happen unless he openly told her how he felt.

Braeden turned to Jordan, hoping to be able to read the expression in her face, the look in her eyes, anything that could clue him in to how she had perceived what he had said. Fear took him over that she took it the way it sounded instead of the way he had actually meant it. Why couldn’t he have took the ability to openly tell how he felt about someone from his mother like he had every thing else that he had enjoyed being a part of her. He had always been able to tell his mother how he felt about anyone, so how was it that he found telling the beautiful girl beside him that he loved her.

He waited in silence until finally the moment came that Jordan spoke. Her words hurt him, deeply, but he had expected it. What he had said wasn’t exactly as clear as he wanted it to be. He took a deep breath, and decided to try it again. “Everything I said was from my heart, and filled with love. There is no easy way for me to say this. What was said wasn’t meant as that I only see you as inspiration, my Musa Dolce. There is so much more to it” Braeden couldn’t help but to take another deep breath, telling his heart and soul was very breath taking and he still had so much more to tell.

“When I said that I have never been around someone who has made me feel so special, I meant that with the deepest sentiment able to be felt by the human heart. Never have I had someone to make me feel like they wanted me around, other than my own mother of course. The feelings are so deep that I almost had no words for them, and those were the best I could do at the moment.” Deciding that the easiest way to say what he wanted would be to put it in the language he was really most comfortable with, Italian. “Ti amo il mio musa dolce. Non appena per l'ispirazione portate alla mia vita, ma per il senso voi mi rendete il tatto, per la bellezza che è nella vostra anima, dato che la pietà che vedo venuto occasionalmente dai vostri occhi. Per tutti i heartaches passati che hanno shapen la persona che siete oggi. Ti amo. I mean this, Giordano, from the bottom of my heart.” Braeden held his breath as he said his last words. He hoped that this time, she wouldn’t misinterpret it.


((Braeden’s Italian speech simply means “I love you my sweet muse. Not hardly for the inspiration capacities to my life, but for the sense you render me the tact, for the beauty that is in your spirit, since the mercy that I see come occasionally from your eyes. For all the heartaches it passes to you that they have shapen the person that you are today. I love you.” Giordano- Jordan))