Victorian Gardens

[Willow "Saiga" Eshire]

Open to all willing

The wind blew softly through the green bushes, it's delicate branches swaying gently with a rustle. The flowers, bloomed to their fullest in the warm summer sun spread over the lush green grass, like a multicolored carpetet.The water, clear refreshing liquid, trickled and bubbed in the fountain, shimmerinig in the golden rays. The birds sang their delicate and charming songs, hidden deep in the trees. It as simply perfect.

Lone figure dressed in a dress of early victorian era, rested on the bench, across from teh fountain... The purple fabric with silver embroidery, set delicately about her. The breeze played with the bow and poles of her hat tiping them this way and that. Rustling, and hiding between the folds of her elaborate dress. Her hands folded delicately across her lap holding the small book, and a folded fan.

The woman, if one did not know better, would have appeared like a ghost from the Victorian times, that died there and have remained in the garden looking out into the distance. Alas, if there were ghosts here, they were not her. She was marely, a young student here, who has a rather unusual taste and sence of fashion. Odd views on the world as well.. Though today the girl's thoughts were elsewhere.

The intriguing lines, of the poets of the 19th century, captivated her. The rhyme, the structure, and the subjects taht they spoke of, seemed to capture her in some kind of trance. It's musical lyrics, like songs lifted off the page, and carried to one far away from the reality that went around them in a never ending cycle. They spoke of trees, silence,nature, peace and tranquility.. Oh, how this world lacked them. There was too much chaos, stress, and pain. The calm lifestyles, and the slower pase, was not welcome anymore.

The young woman sighed, as her eyes focusing for a mare moment on the fountain. But, thee moment passed, and she glanced down, opening the book to the page she was on, and continuing to read the poems of the past century. Thee day was simply wonderefull.

[peter bergan walker]

Peter sighed as he walked along the grassy trails of the garden. It wasn't often that he went out to the garden. He didn't like to think of the only reason that the garden was there. Anna Marie... Peter had known her when she was alive. She wasn't all that bad of a person. He could remember seeing her around and talking to her some, but really he hadn't taken the time to get to know her all that well. After finding out about her death Peter regreted that. He kept thinking that he should have taken the time to talk to her. Peter made a silent vow with himself after she died that he wouldn't let anyone be outcasted around him again. So far Peter had made good with that vow. There wasn't much of anyone that Peter wouldn't talk to. Not many people could sat that about themselves, but Peter could. He made sure that he cut no corners with people. Sure he may not always be happy... but at least by putting on the happy mask he could brighten up someone else's day.

Closing his eyes Peter begain to hum a tune that filtered into his head. It wasn't the tune of a song that had already been writen. He enjoyed coming up with his own stuff, but he rarely put any of it into play in public. Peter was pretty private when it came to his music. The only two people he had ever played for was Alex and Carson. He didn't know what happened to Alex, but he knew that Carson wouldn't listen to him anymore if he asked him nicely even. Carson had a nice way of making Peter feel useless, unwanted, and alone. It was okay, though. Peter knew Carson well enough to know that a lot of things he said... though they hurt a lot, were just a smoke screen for something. Peter just wished he knew what they were a smoke screen for. Gatering his thoughts back into one place, Peter bit his lower lip, reopening his eyes so that he could see where he was going. Running into something would be bad for sure.

Peter finally drew to an area where he thought he might be able to sit and relax for a little while. He sat down at the base of a tree, leaning against it and smoothing his fingertips over his tight jeans. Peter loved how well his jeans fit to him. He had to wear tighter jeans just because of his hips. They were so girly and round. PEter looked up, tilting his head as his brown eyes fell on a girl reading. "Hey," Peter said with a bright smile. "Don't mean to bother you or anything, but I was wondering what you're reading." Unlike Carson, Peter just had a happy kind of way about him. He didn't like making people feel useless, unwanted, or alone...and especially not all three together. Peter just hoped that he hadn't upset the girl by interupting her reading.

[Willow "Saiga" Eshire]

For a few moments the girl stayed still. Almost as is she were a statue, before stirring, and lookinig up at the guy. Her clear blue eyes looked blankly at him, as she tried focusingn her gaze on him. After a bit, she finally focused enough to look the person who settled across from her. She seen him before.... maybe, a few times, here andn there in the halls or perhaps elsewhere on compus. Other then that she was unfamililar with the guy. Then again, even though she tried learning and memorizing everyone's names, adn faces, even she faled with the amount of people that studied here. After all, learnign each and everyone here, would be like trying to memorize every person in teh world.

Her eyes briefly ran him up andn down, before settling on his eyes, as a bright smile illuminated her face. She closed the book, and leaned forward a little. Still smiiling, she tilted her head to the side a little. The young woman, loved meetinig new people. Everyone holds their own stories, their own secrets... no one is the same as another... That intrigued her. The stories that they told, the personalities, the difference in charecter... like amusing books, that you never tire of reading, for with each page, and each word they bring soemthinig new. New things, new surprises, all captivating, and intiguing. Like never ending stories, that always change and bring you deeper and deeper into their intriquite plots.

"Why, hello there!" She pauseed for a moment, before lifting the book and holdign it up for him to see. "Poems of the Victorian Era!" The young woman anounced proudly. Wight a slight hesitation, she got up, and smoothed out the flolds of her dress, before comign oveer to the guy, and sitting down beside him. Her dress makign rusling sounds, as she aranged it around hersellf to be comfortable. she has figured it a whille bacak, that all these kinds of dresses, were highlyl uncomfortable dresses, especially those with a corset.

"Do you know any poets from that time?" She asked slightly hopefully, her eyes lightingn up with excitement. Oh, how she looked like a lady from those ancient times. Here hair, her face, her clothign, even teh way that she held herself, all reminded of a lady from teh 19th century. All she was missing was an escort, and a pair of white horses waiting near by. The rest seeemed to be fitting. Even the college in teh background.

[peter bergan walker]

Peter smiled. He really did love poetry. It was one way he got his bearing in the music world. He would take poems home he learned in school and memorize them before putting them to a tune. It was a good voice exercise as well, learning how to enunciate certain words, putting stress on certain syllables and vowl sounds. Poetry was a great learning device for the music world. More musicians should do it. He nodded, watching the girl move over to sit next to him. For a moment Peter admired her dress. Obviously it wasn't something the average college girl would wear, but Peter was sure that was what he liked about it. He liked that people could dare to be different in college still. At least the art had not been completely lost like it had in some schools. Peter was sure Camden didn't have students running around in 19th century dresses.

"I don't know too many from that era." Peter admitted. "But I do know one that is my favorite." A smirk spread over his lips. Usually Peter didn't sing for people, but it had been one of the poems that he had put to a tune that he was proud of. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth, and breadth, and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of being and ideal grace." Peter stopped an shrugged. Emily Browning was a poetic genius. He was sure that not many guys like that poem, but he enjoyed it. Sure it was about love, but it was more than that or at least Peter thought that it was more than that. It was possible that he could be wrong about it, but the poem inspired him with hope at least. With a life like his hope was a really good thing to have. Otherwise it was just tough luck.

Peter looked away from her to a flower. "I used poetry some when I was learning how to sing." He had also learned to write songs by reading poetry. Some of the different techniques had caught Peter's attention. Though over the years Peter had grown into just writing and developing his own style. "What about you?" Peter asked, turning to look at her once more. "Got any favorites?" Leaning forward, Peter rested his arms on his knees and picked at blades of grass idly. He would pick one and toss it to the side before moving on to another. It wasn't that he was bored... just that his mind tended to wonder after a while. Peter was no longer thinking about poetry, but thinking more about what he might do for dinner that night. There were so many choices, but Pete figured he might just stay on campus and eat.

Eventually Peter was able to get his mind focused back on the topic at hand. He wasn't always the best at staying focused. Anyone that knew him well would know that distant look Peter would get when he was really thinking about something. Most of the time he would be thinking about something that he wouldn't want to share with the public, but this time Peter didn't think that he would mind sharing his dinner delimma with the girl. "Oh," Peter said, remembering that he had yet to introduce himself. "I'm Peter Walker by the way."

[Willow "Saiga" Eshire]

The girl listened to him with a bright smile, her eyes lighting up a bit, when he spoke the lines from teh poem. She recognized them, having eitehr read or heard them before... Though, even then, they were not quite preformed as this. True, she has heard quite a few poems done to a tune, and preformed as a song, not too many, in her opinion were too succesfull. It always seemed as if some element was missing. Though, she could never quite place exactly what it was.

"You have a lovely voice..." She pointed out, after he was done. Peter's voice seemed to suite for such things. She liked singing, and music, and hearing others sing as well, that is when they could actually sing. "I mean... for poems and stuff..."The young woman quickly explained, feeeling that random comments like that, may end up with... well, rather akward situations, she knew that well enough. Her bright blue eyes lowered down for a moment, as if in modesty, before looking back up, the mischivious glow back in her eyes. That glow, was the one thing that would prevent even the most noble of calling her a lady. Too bright did her spirit burn.

"I like, Keats, Shelley, and, yes, I know, she's not quite from there, but Dickinson, has some wonderful poetry as well!' She sighed softly, pressing the book to her chest, as she looked up at the sky for a moment. The gentle white fluffy clouds passed slowly along the clear blue sky. Here and there, a small siluette of a bird or two passed over head, and their songs poured from all diractions. This was indeed a perfect day.

Her attention wondered for a moment, wondering if the poets of those past centuries, and saw the same sky. Did they hear the same songs, and feel the same gentle breeze brush against their cheeks. Did the same sun shind for them by day, and the stars by night. Did the moon singn them same lalubies? Alas, theere was no way to tell. She smiled when he introduced himself, glancing back down once more at him.

"Pleasure meeting you. I'm Willow. Though, you can call me Saiga if you want..."She introduced herself in rechurn, extending her hand toward him, in a gracefull lady like fashion... Just like in the movies, though, unilike there, she did not expect a kiss.

[peter bergan walker]

<sup>Peter smiled when the girl mentioned that he had a nice voice. He nodded when she threw in the second part. Honestly, he would have been okay just with the first part, but he didn't mind her throwing the second part in either. It was still a compliment nonetheless. Peter liked getting compliments about his musical abilities whether he believed them or not. He had mostly been told negative things about his musical abilities, which mostly told him that he didn't need to do it in public. But lately Peter had been trying to break out of that little shell and do what he could to take back his talent and make it his own. He wanted to be good and he wanted people to think that he was good. Peter just wanted to know what it was like to be successful for a change after being told all his life that it was impossible.

"Thanks," Peter answered with a smile. "And you know, Keats and Shelly are great poets. Can't say that I've delved into much Dickenson, but at least I'm familiar with the name." It surprised him exactly how much he remembered about the poems he had sung over years ago. Peter had a feeling that would always be a part of him. He tried to hold on to the little things about his life that made him happy. He didn't want to end up grumpy and bitter like his twin brother, but rather continue to look on the bright side of life and see things as opportunities rather than a quick exit. That wasn't what Peter wanted at all. He couldn't help but smile being around this girl. There was just something about her that seemed happy and he liked that.

Peter loved when people just radiated positive emotions. It made him feel better about things when he knew that other people felt good. "Willow, that's a beautiful name." Peter said, smiling, "You don't mind if I call you that, do you?" He didn't want to end up calling her that name and making her upset. Peter wanted to keep that happiness about her. He was glad that she was sort of old fashioned like that. Not many people these days could find it in them to even appear to be happy... but her... she just sat there as if nothing could deter her. Peter knew all too well how people could appear to be happy for a little while before having their moods just rapidly change. That was how it had been with Carson. Peter had been shocked at how fast things had changed between him and Carson.</sup>

[Willow "Saiga" Eshire]

It was true. Willow, was just one of those people, that just like Peter, looked on the bright side of things. For some reason, she simply found it to be better, then just exist. Unfortunately, she found that out the hard way. Waking up in a hospital with no memory of who you are, or who are the people around you, tends to play a big part in one's life. Her memory of her childhood has not rechurned to her still even up to this day, though, by now, she knews many things. She knows that she had a twin, but she died during the accident. She knows of the accident. Her parents told her of the childhood that her and Iris, the twin, had, of their relatives, and many other events, they even showed pictures. Unfortunately, despite seeing and hearing the proof that was given to her, though clear as day and night, black and white, Willow could not help but feel as if something was missing. Everything just seemed... wrong. Almost as if... not quite right. But living with that would have left one insane if they kept thing of it.

Thus, realizing that trying to live, and living are two different things, Willow, made up her mind to live. But, with that decision came few things along the way. She became optimistic and cheery, always trying to look for the best in people. Living her life to the fullest, as much as she can, something that the psychologist told her mother is her way of coaping with the trauma and trying to catch up on the things that she feels lost. But, that is not true. Willow, simply found it more fun to be that way. TO be strange and different, and to stand out from the rest of the gray, same-faced sheep that fallowed the herd, to be more fun. She simply became this ball of energy that never seemed to cease, always willing to share that bright light of hers with anyone around her. Even if she tends to stand out, her look on life much different from that of the average, and her attitude not quite typical of someone normal. Unfortunately, despite of that, she is still strugling, even if just a little, with coaping with the events that happend. But, being the girl that she is, Willow, marely supresses them, compensating the void with life.

"No, of course not! Go right ahead!" She smiled brightly, nodding enthusiasticly as she laughed lightly. "Though, I must admit, not many people do call me by my name..." For some reason, she noticed it a couple of years back, that people tended to find nicknames for her, and stick to them instead of her real name... it was always a mistery as to why... "But, say... where did you learn to sing like that?" Willow asked, tilting her head to the side, as she glanced at Peter.