Soft and silky, Clara's hair blew in the breeze becoming tangled with the wind that the ocean view blew towards her. Sighing Clara closed her deep green eyes, using a single delicate finger she brushed her chestnut hair away from her porcelain face. There was a sweet, secretive smile on her face as she clutched a small package close to her. In it lay a single rose and four words on a plain white cue card 'From your secret admirer'. Clara had been absolutely giddy when she had found it in her mail box, of course this delicate looking package had only added onto her excitement. Her brother, her only flesh and blood who remained alive was coming to visit her! Both their parents had passed away recently, the siblings only had each other remaining now.

Smiling out broadly to the ocean and the setting sun the girl was just counting down the hours before her brother landed on the small island at exactly twelve o clock tomorrow. With one last glance at the rose she put the lid of the box and re-wrapped it just as it had come. She turned on her heels and strode towards the kitchen and got busy preparing. As the sun set, it gave off an eerie glow around the island. It gave the misconception of the little island being perfect and safe. But is anyone truly safe?

Coughing the young male opened his eyes, but all he saw was darkness all around him. "What the..." Jared murmured to himself. His voice was groggy and his nose cold. Feeling something on his face he lifted it with caution. A low chuckle leaving his mouth as he realized it was those blind-fold things to help people sleep better. Yawning Jared stretched his arms, cautiously he pushed up the small shutter. He sighed at the site below, it seemed like it was the crack of dawn. He was finally going to see his baby sister, after what seemed like an eternity he had finally gotten the permission for a long, and much well deserved, break! He was headed to Coral Reef Island, he had only heard about it from other people and now, here he was...finally about to witness the splendour! After checking his watch he saw it was almost seven in the morning. He needed to catch a connecting flight to get to Coral Reef.

His connecting flight was at ten and the plane would get to his connecting destination by eight. From this place he would take a sea plane to Coral Reef, the whole journey would take close to two hours, Jared was hoping to be in Coral Reef by noon. As the suns rays grew stronger Jared once more pulled down the shutter of the plane. Smiling to the lady beside him he excused himself to go freshen up. They would be serving breakfast soon and Jared was more than famished.

Taking his toothbrush out of his backpack he trotted towards the bathroom, he took his time in there because it seemed as if he was the only one awake so far. Jared took in his reflection, deep green eyes that matched his sisters and curly blonde hair with a few brown pieces sticking out here and there. Jared had no idea why his hair had turned from a beautiful chestnut colour, like Clara's, to blonde. Not that he minded it being blonde, but he had never thought his hair would turn so light. Taking water in his hands he ran it through his hair, briefly fixing the cowlicks he had.

Jared made it back just in time for breakfast, unravelling the aluminum from the corner of the container he munched away happily. The hour of meeting his sister edging closer and closer.

Shards of broken sunlight streamed in through the wooden slats of the window covering, landing on his face, over his eyelids, and bringing up a hand to cover them. His little shop faced the east, and his bedroom window was facing a clear shot of the ocean. Atticus didn't complain, of course---the view was beautiful. The first thing he smelled when he woke was the heavy scent of tropical flowers, blue and fiery red and orange. Some shaped like bells, others resembling Stargazer lilies. They hung from trees on vines and crowded his yard, his windows. His shop---and home, as he lived above it---sold souvenirs to tourists on the island, from shells to jewelry to starfish and small seahorses caught locally. Much like the island of Coral Reef itself, the waters were home to things that looked as if they were painted by a surrealist. And Atticus tended to make the jewelry himself, preserve the native flowers in gel, then glass, as if it were a sculpture suspended in a form of immortality.

Atticus sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had awoken in the same position he had fallen asleep in---on his back, with his hands folded on his stomach. Normally, he was a heavy sleeper, but also somewhat restless, finding himself cocooned in blankets or sheets when he woke. But then again, that was when he went too long without taking care of his business. After that was done, Atticus slept as if he were a mummy, relatively still save a twitch or sigh. Sliding out of his bed, which was easy as he wore lightweight silk of dark blue, he stretched so that his fingers brushed the ceiling, and went to the window, pulling the wooden shutters open. Coral Reef was a popular destination all year, as it never dropped below sixty degrees. Though one tended to want to be used to the heat if they didn't have specific window or door modeling, fit to keep cool air in. His was an open-air native build, old but well-preserved, on a bit of a hill. A cobblestone path led through a darkly shaded front yard full of soft grass, a little sand in the back yard that led to the beach nearby. A sandy walkway. The covered porch held a couple rocking chairs, a wooden swing, a basket of faux gold coin blanks one could imprint their names on inside, or whatever else they might want it to say.

Moving out of the bedroom, Atticus went down the hall, passing the arch that led into an airy living room, which moved into a kitchen and dining area, past another bedroom door and a door that went to an office, and to the bathroom. Inside he pulled some pre-planned clothes from a shelf above a cupboard of towels, and paused to study himself as he did out of habit in the morning. Still young. Perhaps twenty-five in appearance. Naturally jet-black hair covered his oddly light-dark blue eyes in a long mess, but he didn't bother pushing it out of the way. A cool shower put it into a more manageable position, and after he dressed in a white buttondown shirt and light blue jeans, Atticus brushed it back and left it at that. He went downstairs before anything else, coming out of a stairwell behind a counter and then around it, past a few shelves full of beautiful things---harvested rainbow-toned coral being one of many focal points---and unlocked the door. Coral Reef was a quiet little island town, known to be a place where no one really locked their doors, even with tourism being a big part of what kept the town running as smoothly as it did. Recently, that had changed, though.

Upstairs he went into the living room. The windows here were open all night and day, rigged with natural insect repellents that had no scent as all the windows were. On the low coffee table sat four roses, and a bottle of floral preservative rested beside them. He had made a habit of sending a rose every afternoon, with a gently written tag tied with twine around the bottom of the bloom. He sprayed the bloom each day to keep it fresh, and made sure to write each note with elegance. It wasn't hard---Atticus didn't look like a hardy one, a tough one. He was somewhat thin, though tall, and had long, slender fingers and a sharp face, complete with large eyes and hair that often had others telling him how jealous they were that he had it. Though black didn't do much to take away the heat of the day when one couldn't find shade. Still, his nonthreatening nature kept him a source of relief and comfort to those he didn't even know. Perhaps it was why he did so well in this little business.

One couldn't be hasty with these things...

Clara stood at the edge of the pier, her eyes alert, they dashed this way and that. Not many seaplanes came into port, usually tourists preferred to come to the little island on a cruise ship. But then again, her brother wasn't really a tourist...and he had never been...on par with societies standards either. Unlike most siblings, this pair had never fought. They both seemed to harmoniously co-exist together without the need to constantly yip at each others heels. Clara and Jared were four years apart, she was twenty four and he was twenty eight now.

Living amongst the small, tight knit community gave Clara the comfort and protection of home that she needed. The island was like a like a vacation everyday. Each day brought something new to the islanders, whether it was hubbub tourists or the relaxing call of the waves, each day was an adventure for each island native or visitor to discover.

Clara snapped out of her thoughts as she heard the smooth hum of a seaplane approaching, her eyes squinted to adjust to the bright sunlight as she looked into the plane. A broad grin breaking over her childish features as she recognized the unmistakably tall, lanky out line of her brother. Turning on her heels she walked off the pier and waited on the sandy coastline as the plane swooped down to a gentle cruise. The waves carrying it closer and closer to the shoreline.

Jared couldn't help but grin as he saw the outskirts of the island approaching, even from the eagle view he had, it was clear to see the beauty of the island flourish. He could see the beautiful coral ring around the island. The glistening multitude of colours left Jared speechless, he had often question Clara as to why she would want to come to some god forsaken island. He realized that he had just discovered the answer.

He could see his younger sisters eager face as she waded in a bit closer towards the now rocking plane. Jared rolled up his pants and took off his shoes before hopping right into the warm, tropical water. The water was just a bit above his ankle bone, he wadded against the waves and scooped up his little sister. He held her close, they hadn't seen each other in almost five years. It was good to feel her warmth and see her smile again.

Letting her go reluctantly he turned towards the pilot, he gave him a nod as he shook his hand. "Thank you" Jared said as he grabbed his backpack and the medium sized suitcase he had brought. As they wadded through the water together he listened to his sister talk nonchalantly, it was as if the two had never parted. "What's this?" he asked her as she quickly threw something over his neck.

"Just a necklace I made for my big brother" Clara told him grinning. It was a simple, yet lively necklace made from some small seashells and flowers that were unimaginably vibrant and smelled sweet like honey. She had spent most of the week making it, she had wanted to specially collect seashells instead of having to buy them. Grabbing Jared's bag and swatting his hand away when he tried to protest the brother-sister duo walked happily up the winding path to town.

Atticus put the flower to his nose, breathing lightly. Its scent was just as well preserved as it was the day it was cut, and that was still some time ago. He set it on the polished wood counter as he stood in the kitchen, bent over a piece of beige cloth cut into the form of a rectangle. Perhaps it was a desire to keep in customs so far forgotten by the modern world, but Atticus made sure each little teasing note had that lovely, elegant modesty and beauty he was always so fascinated with. He wrote with a fountain pen, pitch black ink, lightly for the most part until he reached certain loops. True, yesterday he had been in a bit of a rush, and hadn't had time to prepare such a package. But he wrote gently now, and finished with a slight flourish and stood back to study his work: 'A gem as lovely as your soul'. Atticus smiled. It seemed she had liked the first one. Maybe she was interested in an older form of distant admiration. Nowadays one had to be careful, though---it could easily come across as stalking or an unhealthy obsession. No, he had to be wary. If he didn't begin following her about or staring too long, she may feel safer.

With the tag finished, he pulled a length of pearly ribbon. The color fit nicely with the tone of the deep red rose petals, wrapped around the stem and secured, tied lightly below the bud. So beautiful. Atticus picked up the rose, spraying it a bit with clear gel. It would settle upon the rose petals as if it were really water, and give it a little shine. But not much, of course---it would weigh the petals down and begin to wilt them. With that done, he wrapped the rose in a white cheesecloth and slid it lightly into a plastic box. It would allow the item to hold its shape and take no damage during transportation. Scooping it up, he lightly went down the stairs and out of the house. His gait was gentle, it rarely made sound when he walked, and he kept his head high. It was a confidence others could feel, the way he walked, perhaps because he wasn't shy. Off the shaded path to his shop, Atticus carried the box under an arm as he moved onto more sunny streets---a sidewalk. He passed other shops, cafes, clothing stores, and made it to the beach.

It was so beautiful here. The sun sparkled over the water as it rose, and distantly he could hear a seaplane's engine, but didn't go out of his way to look for it. People tended to come in from the main chain from day to day, if they didn't come off the cruise ships that passed by weekly. It was why inns and highly rated hotels lined the beaches, but none going under the names of big-business, much like gas stations and stores. The island's community had been founded on the concept of family and friendship, and relied solely on the tourist traffic. It wasn't difficult to entice people to come here, of course---the island's beauty alone had people coming in from mainland and all over the world elsewhere. They often booked cruises just to see the island, if not visit specifically.

Off the beach, Atticus stepped into a residential series of streets. Not many vehicles shone in the sunlight, because not many vehicles existed on the island. People either walked, biked, or took one of two buses. If they had a car at all, it was a small one, or even electric. It was the cleanliness in the air and water that put Coral Reef apart from all others. He hurried across the street, though there was no car coming or going, and found the house he was looking for. A lovely little thing, a shell hiding the true beauty inside, he was sure, just like all the other homes on the island. He stopped at the mailbox, and pulled the rose from its wrappings, its box, and slid it gently inside. With that finished, Atticus hurried away---he didn't want to be seen lingering about a home he didn't intend to go into. Not yet, perhaps, anyway. With the box under his arm, the man retraced his steps, but this time went to the beach, pausing to dispose of the box in a public trash can.

The beach was so calming. Even with tourists and natives, one could always find a quiet place for a nap, contemplation, or to watch the sea. though he did need to find some new trinkets for his shop.

This felt surreal to Clara, over the few years the siblings had kind of lost touch with each other, it was as if their parents had been the factor that was keeping them all together. She had never thought about it often, but there was one thing she knew that she needed to do. She needed to get more involved in her brothers life and he needed to get involved in hers. She was scared that Jared was going to become obsessed with finding her parents murderer, and the truth was at one point that was all he did. He barely slept or ate and literally he would breath crime. That was the whole reason Clara had moved away to Coral Reef.

She regretted running away, but she just couldn't do it anymore. To see her brother in that state was too much for her. She had barely been eighteen then. Her journey had started with going off to University, there was more than enough money to cover the four years of tuition that Clara needed to pay, thanks to her parents will of course. She did an undergrad in engineering and began to work for small companies. Soon she was sent over seas, to Coral Reef where they were just beginning to develop. Reaching Coral Reef, she realized how much she left it and she chose to stay even after her job placement was over. Sure, it wasn't much but her life was more than comfortable with the money she had saved, earned and had from her parents will.

As they chatted with ease they finally reached Clara's house. It was a simple two-story house with giant glass windows and a wide balcony facing the never ending ocean. The house was adorned with many palm trees that swayed gently in the tropical breeze and the ground was littered with flower beds which held strikingly exquisite flowers of colours unimaginable till now.

As Clara led her brother up the pebble path she gasped, the flag on her small, wooden mailbox was up! Did this mean what she thought it meant? Quickening her stride she head straight for the mailbox, her heartbeat faster in her little body. Pulling the box open gingerly she peeked in with curiosity, and there it was. A simple rose, except today, it seemed even more beautiful, even more polished than yesterday.

Jared viewed the happiness upon his sisters face and he too couldn't help but smile. He saw the innocence slowly returning to her, he took in her house, the ocean, everything around her. His little sister had made it, she was happy despite the mistakes he had made. "So...going to take me inside or do you plan on making me stay out here forever and stare at the flower with you?" he asked her teasingly. Clara just looked at him and rolled her eyes and she carefully held onto the rose and ushered her brother inside.

The inside was even more breathtaking than the outside. There was simply, light weight, but modern furniture cozying up the building. Most of the furniture looked to be hand made by the locals, and there were fruits that lay in the fruit basket that he had never seen before. Jared took in the scene slowly, "It's beautiful" he called out to Clara as she raced towards the kitchen.

He was soon ushered to his bedroom and was ordered to freshen up. Freshening up seemed to take away the tiredness Jared had previously been clinging on too, if anything, the cool spring waters that ran through the tropical taps seemed to energize the male even more. Jared sniffed the air and followed the lovely fumes back down to the kitchen. There on the table before him was a feast. There was fish of at least 3 different kinds and fresh green vegetables.

Taking Clara's hand he squeezed it softly, he had finally made it and this time...he would be sure to not make a mistake.

His hands bled. If he didn't make someone else bleed, every line on his otherwise smooth palms would open up and seep sticky red and stain everything he touched. Of course, other people wouldn't see---he wouldn't show them. They would comment on his hands being wrapped up tightly in bandages, but Atticus would make up an excuse. He had cut them when tending rose bushes... When he accidentally grabbed some sharp coral and sliced his hands. He burned them cooking... There were plenty of excuses and people just accepted them---of course, he tended to be very charismatic to the tourists and, sometimes, natives that came into the shop for something if they couldn't find this or that. And Atticus could already see the lines along his palms begin to grow red, threatening him. He had to do something soon... But he had to take a few more days. Just a few more days. If he was right... He had to be right.

Glaring at the ocean, Atticus watched the waves. On this beach they weren't necessarily surfing waves---calm and smooth, they didn't do much in an effort to knock someone down, and smoothed when they reached the beach. This was where the coral reef was, the namesake of the island. It was where Atticus dove down to retrieve bits and pieces, shells and other things. He didn't have to wear gear---he'd done this for years, ever since the island had been in development. It wasn't an old island, and much of its mystery was still undiscovered. The community worked to keep the island clean and beautiful, with minimal development but enough to give the residents and visitors more than comfortable lives. He kept his hands clasped together as if in fear they would begin to pour blood. No, he had to go home...

His hands were jammed in his pockets on his way back. He kept his head high, though, rather than give in to the nerves that grated at his sanity. The lightly smiling mask he wore had others grinning and nodding when he passed, if they should make eye contact with him. But once he was back in his shop, he kept the 'closed' sign in the window and went upstairs. Just a little while longer... Atticus went upstairs, digging in his dresser drawer and pulling out some wrappings, which he folded over his hands and fingers. Just a while...

The sun was setting, the sky was a work of red, gold, orange and a little bit of a purple which indicated that the night sky wasn't looming too far behind. The two were sitting in the balcony on handmade wooden chairs with carvings so elegant only an angel could have created it. Clara was in the line of fire right now, her brother was shooting questions at her at rapid speed. "Well...no I don't know who sent the flowers..." she whispered only to regret saying that. The look of concern had just crossed Jared's face, "But you don't have to worry about anything! It's probably a native...or maybe even a tourist and they're all harm..." she was cut off before she could finish.

Jared let out a deep sigh before interjecting her, "Don't even think about saying harmless, for all you know the guy could be baiting you! He could be a creep. Especially if he's a tourist! I mean if he's a tourist how the hell did he get your address?!" he said with a shake of his head. He didn't understand women these days, was this crap suppose to be romantic? Sure, if they were in high school and someone did something like this on Valentines day it would be ok, but out here on this island? In the real world stuff like this was a sign of danger...well...usually. Taking the glass of wine in front of him Jared downed it in one swift motion. He shook his head to clear himself as he poured himself yet another glass. Except, this time he didn't drink it down like his throat was on fire, he sat there with the glass in his hand just swirling it this way and that.

"Okay, you know what? I might be overreacting because you still are my baby sister but hey, all I'm saying is just..be a little careful and if this grows into something more than just anonymous flower sendings and sweet nothings, then promise me you'll let me know, promise?" Jared said as he leaned forward and now rested him chin on his hands. His sister was beautiful, no denying that. But with her beauty came her fair share of creepers. Jared knew one too many stories like this that ended with a lot more blood than marriages. Satisfied with the nod of her head he turned his neck towards the endless ocean line, Jared like the ambience of this island. I could sure get used to this place he thought with a look of content, his previously tense brows relaxing until his features broke into a small smile.

He couldn't focus on anything else. Not much more than the flowers. If he thought about the work he'd been focusing on for so long... no, he couldn't do that, or he'd become hasty. And who would want to leave behind such messy remnants should they become careless? No, he focused instead on setting the petals of this particularly beautiful flower. He didn't know how other professionals did it, but he used very thin, almost impossible to see metal fiber to set the petals in their full bloom state, bringing them up to caress the petals, the stamens, the little leaves on the stem that he'd set through with a larger, more sturdy metal rod. If he let it set too long, he'd see the flower wilt very quickly. Atticus would have to begin again if that were the case, but unlike others, he didn't grow angry or frustrated when he had to start again. Perhaps it was that eerie calm that made some become interested in knowing him, as if he were some sort of guru that could teach them the same sort of calmness.

He bit his tongue, lifting the small bucket of gel he'd mixed earlier. It hadn't even begun to set yet, which was a good thing---it would have been impossible to pour if that were the case. He slid a domed cover over the flower and its glass setting, which had a small spout on the top that could hold a small spoon that would direct the stream of gel away from the top of the delicate flower as it was poured. He did so very slowly, though, as it began coating the flower's petals. The tiny metal supports and the previous sprayings of setting mist wouldn't handle much momentum, and if he poured the gel too quickly they would buckle and the whole thing would begin closing up. After it overtook the whole flower perfectly, he took the spoon out of the dome and filled it the rest of the way, almost to the very top. When he stopped, the gel slightly expanded and began overflowing a bit, coming out of the hole at the top. It would take the day to set up, but Atticus made sure to clean the drippings off the sides as it slid down.

Originally Atticus thought this one to be sold in the shop, but couldn't help but view it as a chance. He may be able to present it to the young woman. Perhaps tomorrow. It was much more intricate than a simple preserved rose. Perhaps it would intrigue her enough to meet him. Yes, a meeting to get to know her. Or seem to get to know her, Atticus didn't usually care to get to know those that would soon meet his blade. Still, he had an endless supply of flowers to preserve like this---people absolutely loved them, their beauty caught in glass, it seemed, a real flower that would never die. And he did charge a good amount for the work he put into them because he was the only one on the island who did this. A little gift for a temporary happiness. He would take it back, though.