No... No. No. Jessamine huffed in frustration, blowing a curl of lavender mane from her nose as she frowned down at the pile of discarded flowers. How many had she picked? Combed over with those golden eyes of hers, searching over every detail for every flaw? Maybe she should have felt bad, she thought, some other soul might have wanted them. They were fine, she supposed.

Fine is... fine. But people didn't capture sunrises and hold them forever in their heart because they were fine. No. Fine was not enough. She needed perfect. He deserved perfect.

'You are not good enough for him,' She thought as she crushed the flawed flowers beneath her paw, grinding them into the grass. Jessamine sneered at the pile of broken stems and bruised petals, cleaning her claws with a decisive swipe of her leg.

Disgusting.

And with that, she moved on to another batch of flowers, peering over them with a discerning eye. Looking for things to avoid. Rot, discoloration. Insects...

He deserved perfect. He... The mare gave a dreamy sigh as she thought of him. Him. She didn't even know his name. Didn't need to, if she were honest. He could have been named anything. Bumblebee, Spider, even. He'd still be the most amazing stallion she'd ever laid eyes on.

Ah, there! That one would do. She snipped the stem of a tulip, its petals a cup of deepest blood, and added it to the ever-so-slowly growing pile within her basket. She'd been at this for... Sun above, how long? It didn't matter.

Those ebony curls, the deep, soft black of the night sky. And those eyes, darker still! She'd been watching him. And he'd looked at her. Never before had she felt so seen as in those brief heartbeats where she had watched her soon-to-be cast his eyes about, searching. He was searching for her. Ah! The very thought made her paw at the grass in excitement!

He would be so pleased with her. Touched by her perfect offering for a perfect stallion from her, the perfect mate. He would see that, surely. Those eyes... Ouch! Jessamine hissed, lips curling back in a snarl over sharp, pointed fangs as she bit through the sharp stem of a rose. The iron taste of blood touched her tongue and her bright flare of anger settled into a gentle simmer of satisfaction as she dropped the rose, a vibrant garnet, into the collection.

Well. Nothing said devotion quite like blood, sweat and tears, yes? He would appreciate that, she thought. No. She knew. How could he not? But just in case, she would make sure her flowers spoke for her quite clearly.

Tulips for love and perfection, a symbol of them both. Roses, red with passion and beauty. They suited him so well. She could already envision them, braided in that night-sky mane of curls. Camila's spoke of her admiration of him, carnations her fascination. Lilies of the purest white declared her devotion. He'd see this, see her effort and her attention, to detail and to him, of course. He would see this and realize that it had been her he had been searching for.

An ever so careful lavender paw adjusted her offering, aligning the stems just so. Her mind was full of thoughts of him, a gentle foam of blissful sighs. She licked at the cut on her lip, humming lightly as she ripped the petals from their flowers and sprinkled them precisely in his nesting spot, surrounding the blanket of reds, pinks and white she'd laid out for him to find. Mm, what now? The lilac mare hadn't quite thought this far. She should wait here, shouldn't she? To present herself, the flowers the blanket on which she would lay as an offering to her soon-to-be?

No, no... That would be too easy. Surely he was enjoying their little game? Of trying to catch her staring from the tree line or singing softly just within the edge of his hearing? Mm, no. She couldn't give up the game that easily. After all, he was hunter. A skilled one at that. He would want the chase.

Jessamine plucked a clinging vine of yellow trumpet-shaped flowers from her mane, their clinging vines taking a few strands of deep violet hair along with them. She added it to the display, a signature of sorts.

"I will run for you, my love," She whispered softly in the place that smelled of them, of him and her flowers tangled together. Of their future. "Chase me."