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Sometimes, she just sat there, talking. Sometimes, she gossiped. Sometimes she rambled about things she hated. But there was that rare moment where she talked about things she loved. This was one of those times. She just said it in passing.
He was outside, chopping wood and she was lying down on the grass, staring up at the sky. She had initially been staring at him but she got bored and changed position.
“People think that I hate flowers so much but they just never get me the right ones.” She said. He paused, the hatchet a couple of inches away from the wood. Now he knew that she really wasn’t thinking. Ruffnut Thorston would never admit that she liked any type of flower. And yet, here she was. “Y’know? Like, if you get me normal flowers, I WILL stomp on them, tear them apart or burn them. It’s poppies you gotta get. They’re the good ones. Most people walk into a field and BAM! Allergies. Also, they look so fucking cool to me.”
He hadn’t thought much of it then. He just stopped momentarily due to the shock of Ruffnut—Berk’s Ruffnut—liking poppies.
But one day, he was walking in the forest for no particular reason, just walking aimlessly when he saw three poppies. He didn’t like it but his mind went to Ruffnut. He thought back on when she had said it. He picked them solely because her and her brother’s birthday was in three days and he had absolutely nothing to give her. He walked out of the forest and saw her also walking aimlessly. She was probably upset by something as her arms were crossed and her eyebrows were knit together.
“Happy birthday.” He said as he gave her the flowers. She looked at him confused.
“First of all, it’s not my birthday. My birthday is on the eighth of August, it’s the fifth.”
“I know.”
“You can be really strange, you know that?” She never insulted him so she must’ve been pretty annoyed. “Second of all, how the hell do you know I like poppies?”
“You said it last week.”
“I did?”
“Yes, don’t you remember?”
“If I remembered, would I be asking?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
They didn’t say anything for a few seconds before she looked back at his hand with the poppies and took them, a pretty blush appearing across her cheekbones and nose. He hated to admit he found her very pretty. Maybe even beautiful. Definitely beautiful. He couldn’t see why Berk didn’t think so, she had healthy blonde hair that was always in braids but would probably reach past her hips, freckles, and cat-like grey-blue eyes. In all his years of sailing and traveling, he hadn’t seen anybody who looked like her.
“Thanks, big guy.” She said a bit quietly. That was another first, Ruffnut saying something even remotely quiet.
“Your welcome, Ruff.”
She gasped, “Aww, you’ve never called me Ruff before!” She exclaimed. Fuck. He just started another swooning session. He hated that. But he looked at her pretty face and decided that he didn’t mind her company just as long as she wasn’t swooning or flirting. Which was what she was doing now and would probably be doing it for another hour… or worse, another week. Gods almighty, save him.