Chrysanthemum Characters Novels & Stories

I can’t believe that Hyacinth was famous because of her mother. ***Darcy*** I arrived at my son’s mansion just to receive a letter from the courier with fresh flowers. This is unexpected. The flowers are chrysanthemums. Which is usually used here in the Philippines as a flower for funerals. It wasn’t arranged like a bouquet. It was arranged in a circle, the one that was given for the funeral. I handed it to one of the guards as I went inside to read the letter. I place my purse over the coffee table in the living room. Then, I sat down as I took it out from the letter envelope.

She had never seen anyone send chrysanthemums to a living person. Charles embarrassedly lowered his head and looked at the purple and pink chrysanthemums. He blinked his eyes. It was very beautiful. In this season of the mountain, there was only this kind of flower. "I didn't curse you to death." Charles felt wronged. He really didn't mean that. In a fit of anger, Charles casually threw a handful of brightly colored chrysanthemums into the river, adding a tinge of color to the river. "Charles, are you courting death?" Angela frowned and pointed at the river. "How can you throw something in such a clear water? Don't you want to be polluted?"

There were all white chrysanthemums. It was of a common species. It was not difficult to buy them on the market. Santiago had personally gifted her two pots, and she was particularly fond of them. She took great care of the chrysanthemums, and they gradually started to bloom. Everyone admired the flowers. Even Flynt, who had come by twice, liked them. He even asked her to give him a pot, but she was unwilling to part with the flowers, so she told him that she would wait for them to grow bigger before dividing them into smaller pots. Only then would she give it to him.

“I'll see you later, kid,” William said, patting Ella on the shoulder again. She nodded and watched silently as Ethan wheeled the old man back into the house. ◆◆◆◆ Williams' words were all Ella could think of as she went back into the house. He'd been right. She was the only one that had control over her life and she wasn't supposed to let anything change that. Planting flowers to brighten things up in her life seemed like a good idea. Her mother had told her that chrysanthemums stood as symbols of joy and love. She'd also told her about many others but Ella had immediately chosen that one as her favorite.

In Venturian culture, white chrysanthemums were symbolic of death and mourning, rather than life. Madelyn stepped back, just dodging some glass that almost hit her. But she wasn't mad. She kept explaining and saying sorry, sounding real sincere, "Forrest, I came to visit you for real. I got these flowers from a shop, and I got them just for you. They only had these left, and they cost me fifty bucks, which is a lot." "Get lost, Madelyn Jent! If you dare show up in front of me, I'll fucking kill you."

“The rest was already here. My mom started it before she passed. I just… kept adding to it.” Emilia’s chest tightened. And then she saw them. Chrysanthemums. Dozens of them, in full bloom. Their layered petals reached out like stars in shades of white, gold, and deep burgundy. She stepped toward them, as if drawn by something ancient and familiar. She knelt, inhaling their delicate scent. A small smile curved her lips. “My favorite.” “I know,” Max said behind her. She turned, startled. “How?” He shrugged one shoulder, almost sheepishly. “You said it once. Years ago. During a class project, I think. You probably don’t even remember. But I did.”

Occasionally, the flame emerged, casting bright and warm hues. Despite this, his demeanor remained frigid. Next to him, laid a bunch of white chrysanthemums. The eerie combination made passersby repeatedly turn their heads. Is a mob boss paying a visit to a friend in the hospital? And he even brought white chrysanthemums? Slowing her pace, Maisie considered stepping back to evade the person's gaze. Yet, the man's eyes had already locked onto her. Jonathan narrowed his dark eyes. "Where are you going?"

I chuckle in self embarrassment and step down. A bunch of chrysanthemums flowers got pushed into my view, and, my head tilt back before I slowly lift my hands to collect them. My fingers graze through its florets; they were smooth and velvety: Its petals delicate and papery, yet some of its ridges were so pronounced, and folding— There's only one of this type in this world every season. How did he get his hands on it? And this comes every summer which is already over— This flower should have wilted or be wilting right now but it looks just as fresh.

I asked, refocusing my attention on the food once again. He paused. “I love chamomile. They are beautiful, small, and helpful.” He stared at me intently, making me want to squirm. “What about you?” bouncing back my question. “I love wildflowers,” I blurted out, without reserve. “They thrive despite the harsh environments around them, tenacious, and most importantly, free.” My eyes drooped down to the luxurious satin nightdress. It flowed like water and faintly shimmered like stars with each turn, but at the same time, it was a reminder of a life I had lost.

she praised herself, which got Cristopher to release a sigh, smiling as he shook his head slightly from her cocky demeanor which he is already used to. “Gentle as a harp, graceful as a butterfly. It’s already a bonus that you are on the same age and same figure as she is, but you need to act the part. Carmilla is known to be a flower, very gentle, pretty, and attracts all kinds of bees. You get what I mean.” he explained, closing the file and neatly placing them back down on the desk.