Perdita Beaumont-The mysteries of love

*This story is underneath my folder titled “Perdita and Thorne…”. Gacha Club character designs are under my forum titled “My character designs <33”. This is the last origin story in the series, but I may do one more story with Perdita and Thorne. I’m not sure yet. Anyway, enjoy this one!*

Perdita Beaumont smiled as she plucked the flowers from the ground and gathered them in her hands. Her house was just around the corner, so picking flowers in the forest wasn’t a problem. Father made a trail for her to follow, anyway.

She paused in front of a pink dahlia that grew between dirt-streaked rocks. When mother used to pick flowers with her, she would always look for dahlias because they were her “favorite flower”.

But Perdita wasn’t six years old anymore. She was twelve, and mother didn’t pick flowers with her anymore. She was “old enough” to do it herself, apparently. Besides, mother had a baby to take care of at home. A tiny girl named Abby who needed all the love of her parents that she could get.

With both hands, Perdita pulled out the dahlia. Maybe mother would look at her then if Perdita gave her a dahlia.

“What are you doing here?” A boy’s voice asked.

Perdita jumped, startled by his presence, but nonetheless, grateful that she didn’t have to look at the dahlia anymore. She didn’t want to think too much about mother that day.

The boy had black hair curling around his pale face. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle with sadness, his clothes had stains of mud.

He looked to be about her age.

“I’m just picking flowers. What about you?” Perdita asked. She had seen boys her age pass her by, but she was never allowed to talk to them. Mother said that a girl wasn’t allowed to talk to boys when they were busy going to school, that she should just work.

“Same thing!” The boy blurted out nervously.

Why was he so scared? Father said that boys didn’t get scared.

“Really? Splendid! Would you like to pick flowers with me?” Perdita asked.

If he was afraid for whatever reason, then she wouldn’t bother him about it. He’d tell her if he wanted to.

The boy nodded excitedly. Perdita had to bit her lip to stop the giggling, for he looked so adorable!

“Wonderful! I’m Perdita, what’s your name?” She asked.

It’d be nice to pick flowers with someone, to not be alone.

“T-Thorne.” The boy stuttered.

Thorne. Thorne. She would remember that. She’d write his name on her diary. She wouldn’t tell her parents about him. From that day forward, Perdita decided that Thorne would be her best friend.

She began to pick flowers.

………………………………..…………………………….

Every day, every year, Perdita would run into the forest to pick flowers with Thorne. They’d talk about everything and anything, from nightmares to dreams, to cakes and cream.

He didn’t think that she “talked too much” at all! He liked to hear her words, he didn’t tell her to “be quiet” or “go away”. He listened! He actually listened!

She, in turn, would listen to him. He at first seemed to be a fairly happy person, but over time, he told her about his mother.

His mother, who died when he was young. His mother, who had a piece of loose metal lodged into her skin from his father’s inventions. His mother, who he saw lying in bed, sallow and yellow-skinned, as she gasped her last breaths.

Thorne said that he still thought of her, even as the years went on. Even though they were both no longer twelve, but sixteen.

Perdita only held him close and told him that things would get better. For though her parents still didn’t want to hear her speak, at least Abby loved her. At least Abby looked up to her.

There was always something good that was bound to happen.

……………………………………………………………

It was yet another day at the forest. Perdita sat in the clearing, her blue dress billowing around her like a cloud. Earlier that day, Abby saw her leave for the forest and asked her where she was going, but Perdita only smiled and said that it was a “secret”.

The beauty about Abby being six years old was that she was loyal. At that young of an age, she looked up to those older than her and didn’t question them. Hopefully one day, she would find something wonderful to do in her life.

Like how Perdita hoped to open up a garden, and how Thorne hoped to start an orphanage. One day, they would joy.

There he was! Thorne, looking as lovely as the day she met him, making his way to the clearing.

Perdita waved him over. She didn’t feel like picking flowers that day, she only wanted to sit with him.

“Perdita,” Thorne said, sitting next to her on the clearing.

He cleared his throat as she twirled a strand of her ginger hair. They were only going to sit in a forest clearing together, what could possibly be the problem?

“Perdita, you’re the only person in my life who doesn’t make me feel like I’m being heavily judged. You don’t prod me to talk about what happened to my mother, and I appreciate that. You treat me like an equal, but more than that, you bring color to my life. Every day with you has been a gift. A gift that my father couldn’t give me, that no one else could give me...” Thorne trailed off.

Perdita felt her heart begin to twist and tangle within her. Did he really mean all of that? Was he only saying that to make her feel better, or was it true?

“You’re such a sweet person that sometimes I wonder if you’re even real. If you’re just a dream to me. But I see you now, and I know that you’re real, that you really care, and…and…”

Thorne couldn’t finish his sentence, for he began to become choked with tears. Perdita wanted to sweep him up and hug him close, but she felt that it wasn’t the right thing to do, that she should just leave him to cry.

“I love you, Perdita. More than a friend would. When we grow up, I want to marry you. I’ll start an orphanage, you’ll start your garden. You and I, bringing beautiful things to the world. I’d love to have you in my life, if only you feel the same. Of course, I’m fine with you being a friend.” Thorne finished, voice cracking with sobs.

He was beginning to wipe them away, but no, he didn’t need to! He could cry all he wanted and she’d let him! If it made him feel better, then she’d let the tears run.

Everyone deserved a moment to cry.

Perdita grinned, her own truth settling within her, and said:

“I love you too, Thorne! You’ve never said that I talk too much, and you don’t make me feel like I’m a bother. You may not know this, but I came out here in the first place because I wanted peace. Peace from my parents who didn’t like to hear me speak, who would rather have me stay silent…”

Perdita began to trail off and look down, for she couldn’t bear to look at Thorne’s worried blue eyes when she thought about her parents. Perdita tried her best to keep everything light and rosy. Thorne didn’t need her to cry. He needed her to be strong, so that she could be there for him.

But instead, he laced his hand around hers, as though he were holding flower petals.

“My parents find my voice to be too loud, and they don’t want me to open up a garden. They say that a woman should know her place, that she should talk when she’s spoken to.” Perdita continued.

With each word that she spoke, she began more painfully aware of the certain shout that was embedded into her tone no matter how much she tried to keep her voice down. It was like that ever since she was little. Her parents said that it was “unladylike” and Perdita used to care so much that she whispered so as not to irritate people.

But with Thorne holding her hand, Perdita felt the embarrassment melt away. For with her pain was purpose, and she couldn’t give up on her dreams just because of a few things her parents said.

She looked up at Thorne, her hopeful green eyes meeting his kind blue ones.

“But I’ve never been that type of girl, and I want Abby to know that her words are valued.” Perdita said firmly.

Abby wasn’t going to be little forever. One day, she was going to grow up into her own person, and her parents would find a reason to hate her then, just like they did with Perdita.

“Your voice isn’t too loud at all. It’s music to my ears, and I’m blessed to hear it every day. You’re valued very much, and I want you to know that I’ll always love you, on your good days and bad. In fact, I haven’t felt this marvelous since…” Thorne trailed off, eyes deep in thought.

The more Thorne talked about how musical her voice was, the more Perdita began to let go of the things her parents said about her voice. Father would tell her that no boy would love her if she spoke like that, mother would tell her that she sounded too much like a “working man”, that farmer men were the only people who shouted.

Perdita never meant to be loud. That was just the way her voice worked. She kept trying to change it, but nothing ever happened.

She was beautiful. Her voice was beautiful. She deserved to pick all of the flowers she wanted, and she deserved to be in love.

“Since my mother was alive. She used to take me to the forest to bring home flowers, and we’d decorate the house with them, bring life to them. Ever since I saw her thin, yellowing body, I…it was like there was an emptiness in my heart.” Thorne paused, as though he wanted to bring more of his thoughts into fruition.

Perdita didn’t mind. She’d listen to his lovely words for a lifetime if she could.

“But you fill that emptiness, Perdita. Your words and your care fill that void, and I never want you to stop talking. You’re like the flowers in my home. You are the color in my life.” Thorne said.

Perdita didn’t waste a second. She brought him close into a kiss, relishing the sugary taste of his lips. He liked to bring flowers home, for he said that it brought joy to the darkness. His lips were so sweet, like candy.

Perhaps it was natural. Perhaps everything about him was rainbow-tinted, because if he was the type of person to bring home flowers and tell her heart-fluttering truths, why wouldn’t he taste like the treats at home?

She felt Thorne kiss her back, wrapping her close to him. Why weren’t there thorns binding them together?

Perdita let go and kissed his forehead, saying:

“I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”

With that, Thorne snuggled close to her, the two of them alone with the forest flowers.

……………………………………………………………….

That peaceful day at the clearing had passed and blossomed into a new one. Perdita was at the same clearing, but instead of wearing a baby blue dress, she was in a cardinal red one.

Her parents never questioned where she was going, which didn’t come as a huge surprise for Perdita. They didn’t care much about her, and they didn’t deserve to know her the way Thorne did. Abby, loyal as always, didn’t ask her anything at all.

But when Perdita caught the sight of Thorne in the distance, he looked…distressed.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen the devil.” Perdita said, placing a hand on his back.

For Thorne was facing the ground, holding his knees, breathing heavily.

“My father…he likes…inventing…but he’s…out of sorts…he’s…he’s…he’s going to lock you in a…in a time machine…run home…go home…I’ll…take care of him…get rid of him…” Thorne said in between gasps of air.

Perdita felt a laugh bubbling up in her throat, and then, it exploded out into the air.

Goodness, but Thorne knew just how to make her laugh!

Thorne got up from the ground, recollecting himself, and then-

Why did he clamp his hand over her mouth?

“Keep your voice down. Run home.” Thorne whispered in her ear.

He let go of his hold on her, she could smell the flowers again.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Thorne. No one can travel into the future. It’s just not possible. Come now, stop teasing me.” Perdita said, giving Thorne a light punch on the shoulder.

He was probably just joking around. Maybe he didn’t sleep well the other night. But surely, he didn’t mean what he said…right?

But Thorne continued to have that uneasy, paranoid look in his eyes. Whatever was going on? Did his mother’s death finally get to him? Should she really run home?

“I’m not. I’m telling the truth. Keep your voice down and run, right-“

Perdita felt something hard and rough slam into her head, blood rushing to her eyes. Thorne’s face became blurred with darkness…

……………………………………………………

“I know that you’re confused now, but you’ll like it later.” A man’s voice said.

Perdita could only see silver walls surrounding her. In every corner, there were only silver walls.

“You’re not going to remember this life after I push the lever, but you’re going to have a better one.” The man’s voice said.

His voice sounded so faraway, but it couldn’t be because he was right behind her. Right? She heard him behind her, didn’t she?

Perdita couldn’t move in the small silver thing. Was she in a box? Why were her skirts taking up so much space? Why couldn’t she turn around?

A whining whoosh sound swirled around her and then, the darkness came sweeping back.

……………………………………………………

Perdita stood in front of a house, only, it didn’t look too big. It didn’t look like her home at all.

A screaming noise shrilled in her ear. Perdita jumped, turning around.

There was a long, black slate of stone, where carriages that were shaped like odd inventions had a surface that glinted in the moonlight. The strange carriages were the ones making the screaming noises on the black slate of stone.

Where was she? More importantly, who was she? Her name was Perdita, but did she have a family? What was her last name? Why did her heart hurt so much? Why did she have the distinct gut feeling within her that she didn’t belong?

I need a glass of water. Perdita thought, turning the knob of the house.

It opened easily for her, as though it were waiting for Perdita to step foot inside. But it couldn’t have, right? A house was just a house, wasn’t it? She’d wake up and remember everything. Everything would be back to normal the next day.

It had to be.