Gerrit put the box he was carrying down on his kitchen table with a sigh. He had a satisfying day of work behind him and bought himself some materials before he left: a plate-sized black wicker basket with a high handle, a block of foamcore, some cheap parafin wax, some wire, and flowers delicately packed in paper.
Then he went to get some clippers and a hot glue gun, some of the latest additions to his household-toolbox. Since Ram crashed at his appartment the need to repair things here and there came up pretty frequently - not that Gerrit particularly minded.


He spread out his haul and put the box on the ground. Much like last Coronation, he wanted to prepare a gift for the future Monarch. It showed respect and more importantly: he did his best thinking while working on something. After the last few weeks he felt like he had a lot of thinking to do.


He plugged in the hot-glue gun and waited for it to heat up, meanwhile unpacking and sorting the collection of dried and fresh flowers, cutting some pieces of wire, and placing the package-paper next to the stove.
Next he put the wax into a pot and put it on low heat onto the stove - he was going to encase the blossoms in wax to make them last longer.

2 successes


He took the block of foamcore and glued it into the basket. This would act as filler and the base for everything else. While waiting for the wax to melt he pondered.
No matter how he mulled over it, he still wasn't completely sure about his place in Winter. The Wizened called me the most optimistic Onyx he has ever met. He had said that wasn't a bad thing, that there is no one-size-fits-all solution to being a Courtier. Gerrit still had his doubts. What good was a Winter that couldn't lie, couldn't steal or cheat? Sure, he could appeal to his sorrow - past and present - as a justification for his membership, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was on the way to become a bootleg Spring Courtier who had lost his way.
The Winter Court in his former Freehold helped him find his family, helped him start a new life. There may have been much more than met the eye, but this shaped the Ogre's perception of what Onyx was about. Now that he was more involved in those matters, he wasn't sure that was going to cut it.


The wax was liquid now. Carefully he took to flowers he bought and dipped the blossoms into the wax, one after another being preserved as memories of beauty and loss.
Did he have to adjust his morals, find a way to justify dishonest behaviour? A well-placed lie could safe lifes, gained intelligence after breaking in somewhere could prevent others from being hurt and taken.
But it will make me like my father. One justification at a time it will make me become a heartless, lying, selfish piece of work. Someone disregarding of others' feelings, just out for my own gain.
Maybe, but his father was also a drunk and a crackhead. His father had issues way beyond being selfish and on a rational level Gerrit knew that he tried his best to be as different from that example as he could get. Couldn't he trust his conscience to tell him when it was okay to break the rules?
A big part of him was against that idea, but he also realized that he was an adult now, not a kid scared and confused by the way his parents acted. He grew immensely on his own, he felt that he could grow some more.

1 success


It took a while, but he finally covered the last flower. He poured the rest of the wax into a jar and cleaned the pot right away.
Maybe he could ask John to give him some lessons in lying. Maybe he was not good at it anyway, then this whole dilemma would go away by itself. Or maybe he could learn - maybe this was actually a way to avoid conflict and violence.

He carried the first bunch of flowers over to the table. The wax already formed a clear skin around the petite blossoms. Using the hot glue, he covered the foamcore with white winter pansies, adding light blue and violet ones here and there. A pure cover of snow broken by flecks of color, maybe a budding hope.

failure



He thought of Yamiyo and his hand crushed the flower he was currently holding. The way he treated her was not right. Smothering as it may have been, she had simply wanted to help him - maybe even more for her own sake than for his. Appearing as whatever the viewer desired was as much blessing as it was a curse. How do you define yourself when you're defined by the perception of others? How can you be sure someone's affection is honest and not just driven by hollow desire? He felt bad for her and decided to apologize to her. This may also be another chance for him to grow. The fact was, he wasn't going to get his wife back - she was gone. Mourning a loss was important, but it was also important to work through the sorrow, to keep on living.
That's quite a lot you're putting on your plate here. And it is going to hurt so much, it hurts so much. He put down the broken thing, and buried his face in his hands. Silent sobs made him shudder as memories rushed in. It took a while, but he got it out for now. He was going to get through this.

failure



Pushing on, the Ogre took the three white lilies and some wire - they were going to be the centrepiece. He wanted to fixate them rising from the other flowers, so that they stood together above the rest, prevailing against the cold and the sorrow. A nice thought, though he felt a bit like a hypocrite considering the ugly thoughts that wormed their way into his mind every now and then. He wasn't romantically interested in Cassandra, why did he care what kind of bond she and John were developing? Was it the fear of being abandoned? Worrying about not being good enough for them? He had no reason to believe that they intended to harm him in any way - much less since they Pledged their goodwill -, but that didn't silence the jealous voice inside his head.
Would talking to them about it help? Probably not - then he'd just get the feeling that they had to bend over backwards for his irrational fears, that they had to ponder and pity him even more. It's also not like they were actually dating and even so: he should be happy for them to have found someone, they were his friends. Added to the list of things to work on.

1 success



It took him longer than he'd liked, but in the end he managed to do what he envisioned: Using a pencil, he drilled a hole into the foamcore and stuck the wire-wrapped lilies in it. Finally, he fixated that with a drop of glue.
Gerrit covered the last holes of the basked with flowers, and covered the handle of the basket with english primroses, violas and winter heath, creating a bit of texture and a color gradient from the white ground to a dark violet top.
The finishing touch were strands of dried lavender hanging from the handle and creating the impression of rain or tears.


The Stonebones looked at his work - he was pretty satisfied with it. The colors were applied harmoniously, it wasn't too busy or too barren and you could read several things out of it.
He also felt a whole lot lighter now that he had worked out how to proceed with several issues of the past week.


He knew he could get over his hardships and issues, he's done it twice before after all.