Challenge: Include an instance of flower language and ten color words in your story. Optionally, one of your sentences must be at least 55 words long.
Funnily enough, I accidentally had a ~35-word sentence in the first paragraph and decided I could easily extend it to at least 55 words, so that turned out to be easier than shoehorning 10 color words without being too shoehorn-y about it.
My pick for flower language is the Tatarian aster (Aster tataricus), which in Hanakotoba (the Japanese language of flowers) means Remembrance and “I won’t forget you.”. I decided to make an Earthian character whose origin/backstory justifies using Earthian flower language. Also, TIL that blacksmiths have conferences too (and not just academics lol).
I’m not really happy with this one. I only got to start writing in the evening when I was already tired, so this got the least amount of effort both in writing and editing so far in this FFM.
Beyari kept her eyes out for a violet Tatarian aster as she mingled in the colorful crowd. The prospect of a face-to-face meeting with an armorsmith she had looked up to and messaged with for most of her armorsmithing career was getting more and more daunting the longer she was at the conference and not just because soon said armorsmith could see her work with their own eyes and judge her still limited skills. Or, well, she likely would not actually judge it since she knew that she was still fairly fresh out of her apprenticeship, but it was still daunting.
She spotted Kazue Shibuya’s signature flower on navy blue and stopped to wait the group of gold-clad warriors talking with Shibuya out (and to gather her nerves). A flashy bunch, regardless of whether or not that was actual solid gold, gold-plated or just gold-colored paint.
“Ugh, them,” an Okawon in steel gray armor who stopped next to Beyari grunted in Koltonese. “As loud as their armors.”
“I guess they’re big enough not to need stealth,” Beyari commented to match the energy.
The Okawon huffed out a hoarse laugh. “For sure.” They looked her up and down. “Eskel-Zai, huh? You look green. You and your armor.”
Beyari wondered if she should have opted for a red paintjob instead of forest green. It would probably mask her blushing better while still complementing her purple (although at this rate magenta) skin. She nodded. “Pretty fresh outta apprenticeship. This’s my first conference by myself.”
The Okawon nodded. “Figures.” They gave their hand. “Grôlmôô of the Kâsk.”
Beyari shook their hand. “Beyari Ket of Clan Frula.”
“Pleasure, warrior Ket.”
“Likewise, warrior Grôlmôô.”
It turned out that Grôlmôô — an armorsmith in the 20th (recorded) generation (“probably plenty more, but someones’ve mixed up numbers along the way”) — was fun to talk to. Once the older armorsmith had to move on to check up on their apprentice (“a real bright kid, good at channeling their anger to the workshop rather than to weapons”), Beyari noticed Shibuya waiting for her.
“I didn’t want to interrupt. Old Grôl hates when people do that,” Shibuya spoke up.
“Ah.” Beyari resisted the urge to fidget. Since appropriate smalltalk did not come naturally, she went straight to business, “It’s great to finally meet you in person.”
“You as well, fellow survivor.” Shibuya smiled, her entire presence warm like the brown color of her eyes. “So, how’s your first solo conference attendance gone?”
“It’s been a bit daunting,” Beyari remarked, although now that she had this conversation going, she figured that she would make it through this. “Who were those gold-wearing warriors? Grôlmôô didn’t seem to hold them in high regard.”
“Ha, and they shouldn’t. No one should.” Shibuya shook her head. “They’re from the Goldie Shops, this odd org from Earth. Pretty sure it’s a front for some cult that’s amassing gold in the name of uniforms. They pop up in smithing conferences whenever there’s a one close enough that sending a few loudmouths isn’t expensive.”
“Huh. And no one’s done anything about them?”
“No one’s bothered to pay enough for a skilled bounty hunter to take the hard-to-find leadership in. Something something bigger fish to fry, I guess.” Shibuya shrugged. “Well, enough about them. Let’s talk smithing and proper smiths, shall we?”
Beyari grinned. “Music to my ears.”
WindySilver 