keeper (d. Hale)

chaos on a silver platter.

Regardless of the choices Delilah would make, a flower would appear in her path at moments she was least expecting it too.

They were warnings. They were premonitions. They were gifts.

For her. For her pack. For her family.  

And whether they were good or bad, flowers in their own right, seemed to bring her a sense of comfort she was only beginning to understand.

Derek had asked her to explain it once during the summer, before their encounter with the Darach and just after he had gifted her a small bouquet of hand picked daisies from the garden outside the house. 

Innocence. Purity. 

He was bashful as he watched her take the flowers from him with a grin splitting expression. She wasn't expecting to find out this was what he was doing when he said he needed to slip outside for a moment after he had handed her, her morning coffee.

It was safe to say it was a welcome surprise. 

She kissed his cheek and begun threading them through her loosely braided hair while he watched on with a rapid attention he only reserved for her. He stole a sip from her cooling coffee and leaned casually against the side of the couch while she happily worked. 

When she was satisfied with their placement into a makeshift crown, she reached for Derek's waiting hand and together they walked through the back roads outside of the preserve towards the old Hale property. As of late, they had found themselves wondering more and more to his childhood home. Delilah believed it had to do with Derek needing to understand his own conflicting feelings regarding the property and the Hale's future plans to rebuild on the site.

Nostalgia, Delilah thought as Derek squeezed her hand tightly when the lingering smell of old smoke coiled around them even after all of these years. And regret.

Delilah twirled the stem of one of the flowers still in her free hand between her fingers as Derek took a seat on the top step of the scorched porch. She settled between his open legs and leaned her head against his inner thigh.

He watched the crown of flowers resting against him before lifting a long curl into his hand and winding the end around his finger. Delilah let out a soft sigh at his action before she turned her head to kiss his wrist. He was fidgeting and still waiting for an answer.

The slight movement caused the petals in her hair to slight shake against his lap.

"I don't know, Der. It's just when they're with me, the flowers, I feel whole. Right even."

She sounded a bit unsure in her answer. and he imagined she was biting her lip as they both looked out onto the old front yard of his family home. He used to play tag with his sisters there, before he entered his preteen years and he decided anything to do with family was uncool.

Now as an adult, he wished he could go back and correct all of his foolish mistakes.

He hummed as he unwound his hand before curling it back up again. He admired his girl as she carefully shifted through her thought process.

"You're starting to tell the difference between a good one and a bad one at least..."

Delilah let out a light laugh but understood what he was referring too. Flower magic was a peculiar thing. 

"I'm not sure I would classify any flowers as bad. Perhaps undesirable in the moment but never bad." She thought of the yellow monkshood that burned Derek's hand and still hung in a protection pendant around Melissa's neck. "Each one has its own story to tell, its own warning."