Logs:Green Thumbs
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| RL Date: 21 October, 2014 |
| Who: Edyis, Bones |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Bones finds a dead - well not so dead body in the greenhouse. |
| Where: Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: It is a rare day of cloudless sunshine, though the temperatures are markedly colder. |
| OOC Notes: As usual feel free to add/edit/correct anything I may have missed. |
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| Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr(#2203RJ) A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora.
Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.
Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath.
A mess of hair and ink, the grungy man stands at a tall 6'4. Unkempt brown hair hangs down past his shoulders in a wavy mess, framing and in part overlapping the edges of his face. Brow is heavily pronounced over sunken, burnt umber eyes, casting a shadow across them in all but the harshest of light. Bushy and uneven facial hair covers his mouth, chin, and upper lip. Broad shoulders slouch, rarely supporting his head up to the full potential of his height. Thick arms are worked to size by hard labor, painted with all manner of grimly themed and scar stained tattoos. Chest is burly down to tapered waist, broadening out again to dense thighs that carry him in his casual yet unsettling shuffle. Rounding a corner of leafy green trees in their deep pots, the first reaction of the gardener is a quiet "Awww damnit." But there's releif in him right away at discovering that the stranger is breathing. He smiles, and then stifles a laugh, mostly for himself at why his initial thoughts were of corpses. Sleep made much more sense. But now there's a new predicament. "Hey, uhhh..." soft at first, walking over to the sleeping figure reaching out an arm, untill he realizes just how filthy his hands are with soil not just worn into his calloused hands, but deep under his fingernails. Improvising, he picks up a nearby rake and gently pokes at her shoulder with the wooden handle. "Wakey wakey? Hello?" It is a random garble of nonsense that the scribe spews, as she sits bolt upright sending her notebook flying across the green house dark eyes wide and blinking. It takes a few blinks for her to realize that she's in the greenhouse and a few more to recognize the resident gardener, and still a few more to form something akin to a coherent sentence. "Ah Bones! Um. Am I in your napping spot?" blinking as she stands to reclaim her precious notes from amid the leafy potted ferns. "Sorry about that." There's laughter first, big and boisterous and scratchy, tapering off as he looks around for a wet rag or something to wipe off his hands. He finds a dry rag, and watering can, and combines the two with a pour to give himself something to clean the potting soil from his mitts. As he wipes, she mentions his name, and while still smiling cocks an eyebrow at her. "You know my name? Weird. Hey, not to interrupt dream time, but I just figured you'd probably wanna shuffle off to some place, uhhh..." His eyes look down to the bench before back up at her. "Y'know. Softer." Dark eyes focus slightly on the man, as she dusts off the notebook, laughing. "Yes but it seems you don't remember mine. It's sad really, you taught me a lot." Mischief dancing in that smile, "Such a shame really, you would be impossible to forget with all that ink. I meant to ask a long time ago where you had those done." She indicates the artwork covering him. "Soft is unnecessary, Quiet however, that is precious. What are you replanting this time?" Scratching at his head, he cocks it slightly to the side in a moment of genuine confusion. "Either we met before, or you're messing with me." With narrowing eyes, he comes to a third possibility. "Or both." Try as he might, he can't quite put the face to a name, and shrugs his shoulders in defeat. "Sorry, can't quite place you." There's a little wince on his face, a quiet apology for his failed memory. "Oh, uhh, I'm workin' on better arrangements for the patio outside the Snowasis. Somethin' that can hold up to the cold but don't look quite so fuckin' boring. Maybe somethin' with a little color to it that says hey, dumbass, there's a ledge right here. Don't get drunk and fall off." "Maybe a little of both, but I'm Edyis, Assistant Records keeper." Edyis is grinning now. "We did meet, but it was a while ago. Don't worry about it, I'm easy to forget. One of my better qualities actually." And it's at the mention of the arrangements at the smile widens, "Mind if I help for a bit? I'd love to see what you've got together! You still crashing on Azaylia's couch these days?" Again, Bones' face is more one of confusion than anything else, lips slightly parted as he stares blankly for just a few seconds. "You want to... help?" The concept is so foreign to him that he has to blink a few times more. "Well, alright miss forgetable, ha! Edyis. I'll try to keep it up here this time." A few taps at his temple for what where he meant. "Uhh, how much can you lift?" He doesn't want to overly question her physical strength, but there's a worried glance sent towards her arms as he waves her towards what he's working on. Again, Bones' face is more one of confusion than anything else, lips slightly parted as he stares blankly for just a few seconds. "You want to... help?" The concept is so foreign to him that he has to blink a few times more. "Well, alright miss forgetable, ha! Edyis. I'll try to keep it up here this time." A few taps at his temple for what where he meant. "Uhh, how much can you lift?" He doesn't want to overly question her physical strength, but there's a worried glance sent towards her arms as he waves her towards what he's working on. "I've got this new flowering Seven-Sun redbud tree, and I know I can root a branch of it, but I wanna see if it'll share the same pot with some Grey Myrtle. Oh! And uhhh, yeah, I still crash with Azaylia." He'd almost forgotten her question, his mind so wrapped up in plants. The young scribe is smirking as she roles up her sleeves, to reveal what would indicate a fair amount of lean muscle for someone of her profession. "More than I could two turns ago. If it weighs more than I do, you'll have to do the lifting." Tucking her notebook into the apron and smiling as he dives into the discussion of plants. "I'm not sure I've ever seen a Seven-Sun redbud before. Do they usually bloom in the spring? There's a big flowering tree back home that does in the courtyard. Whitish pink blooms." Moving toward the pots, and studying the plants themselves with a studious "Whitish pink. Big tree." He repeats as he heads over towards a potted plant with a tree in it blooming up bigger and taller than him. His face is one of concentration, not on the task at hand but at what her mystery tree might be, and it stays scrunched and focused even as he reaches into his boot to tug free a wicked looking blade. Definitely not a standard issue pruning saw, but sharp enough for him to swiftly whack at a branch a few times to sever it. "Oh!" He gives a little smile as he rests the large branch over his shoulder, and leans back down to slip the knife back where it came from. "I don't now where back home is for ya, but I gotta guess that's an White Aristocrat. Did it grow fruit?" He checks her arms again, smiling, and handing her the heavy branch with all it's leaves and small reddish buds. "Careful y'don't knock somethin' over on the way. And no actually. I gave you the awkward part, hehe." And he got the other part, bending at the knees to lift a pot the size of cauldron, full of dirt. Not an easy task judging by how he has to grunt, strain, and buldge before putting it up on one shoulder. "Way in the back near the spring. That's where I got the Myrtle waiting. The uhh, fall-blooming Myrtle if that answers your question." "Yeah the flowers come before the leaves. Maybe not so big, I tend to think anything taller than me is big. It's not the size of an oak or anything, but it's probably the only one in the entire courtyard that hasn't been pruned and trained to a specific shape, so it's gone a little wild." She shakes her head in the negative for fruit. "Nabol is, no was, Esvay Valley particularly." She may gulp a little at the blade, but she takes on the branches without complaint, sniffing at the buds as though they might hint something. "It would probably be ill advised to plant a thorny hedge or something, wouldn't it? No color but you'd think a fellow would remember it the next time." Bones walks carefully behind her, being sure not to take a tree branch to the face and simultaneously ensuring that the pot of soil doesn't slip from his shoulder. There's strain in his voice as he talks, indication of just how heavy his load is. "Yeah, that's a White Aristocrat I'd bet." When they reach the location, he taps her on the shoulder and points it out, a squat bush of oddly grey leaves near the spring itself. His heavy pot lands right next to it with a thunk, and he heaves a sigh of releif at being free of it's weight. "It's a patio. Y'gotta think 'bout it lookin' good first and foremost, y'know? I could put something wicked lookin' out there, but who wants some grim vines of thorny death lookin' at 'em while they're drinkin eh?" "Have you ever seen the jungles in the south? Plenty of thorny death with wicked looking flowers, though I don't know if any of it would survive here. Didn't mind looking at it while I drank but, I did drink a lot more down there." Looking at the greyish bush as he plops the pot next to it, she hangs on to the branches though adjusting to make room for more, since it would be awkward to carry the whole potted plant to the patio right? "You make an excellent argument sir. So what happened to the old planters? Another pair of drunks take them out again?" "Nah, most of my time down south was spent on the water. Not a lot of plants to look at. But I'm guessin' your southern jungle stuff wouldn't hold up too well out here anyway." He starts digging into the moist soil of the massive pot with his hands, scooping out a center for her limb. "Old planters? Oh! Oh, nothin. Probably gonna use the same ones that're still there, but when winter hits and the winds start blowin', the usual arrangements I got just kinda turn into nasty lookin' branches. These'll die, but hold together good and keep lookin' nice even all frozen and shit." WIth a motion of his head, he guides her to shove her branch into his dug hole." "So you were a sailor then?" She asks sticking the branches where he indicates, dusting her hands when they are finally free. "Makes sense, I never thought about the fact that the plants have to be replaced every so often. Reaches winters are nasty things." Watching the pot with dirt and tree branch in it now closely. "Do you ever miss the water?" Grabbing the base of the branch, he shoves in a little deeper and then starts securing earth around it, ensuring it'd stand on it's own, at least untill he can properly brace it. "Yup." The simple answer to her question about sailing, clapping his hands mostly free of dirt. "And nah, not really. I mean it'd been so long since I got out that I kind just got over it." He put his hands on his hips and started at the freshly transplanted branch, picturing it with the grey bush framing it down below, but snapping out of it when realizing more explanation might be needed. "Oh, when I got out of the Mines I mean. Hehe, and I think I might'a just answered that question you were thinkin' on askin'. Bout where I got my ink." "Crom?" She's almost incredulous, as she watches the man work. "I mean they are really terrifying looking, but some of them are pretty damn awesome. Still wouldn't want to wind up there just to get a really cool piece of permanent artwork." Considering the possibilities down that line of thought, "Would it be a horrible sign of how nosey I am to ask what happened?" bending to examine the greyish leaves more closely. Heading over towards a nearby workbench, the big man picks out a tiny bag tied with cord and brings it back to their new tree. "Crom. Yeah, I think so? Honestly I barely remember any'a that shit. Life underground kinda makes ya' braindead real fast. Probably didn't snap back into my body till a few months back under sunlight." He uncoils the bag to reveal tiny seeds inside, which he takes individually and pushes into the dirt with an index finger. "What happened with... what? When? In the mines? Uh, I hit the walls till rocks fell out of 'em." "Well, more of how you wound up in there, is what I meant." Edyis asks, crouching now to watch the seeds go into the dirt. "I mean I've heard stories, but what people say about a person, and what the guy himself tells you are usually quite different things. Truth is - well it doesn't really exist the way people seem to think it does." She decides finally, "What kind of seeds? The Myrtle? Or something else?" A smile starts to form as she asks the question, and then goes on to elaborate about hearing things straight from the source. "Actually.." he starts, still smiling as he ties closed the bag when all the seeds are planted. "It's probably exactly the way people tell it. There ain't really many details to get wrong. I was in a bar fight and I punched a dude till he weren't alive no more. Didn't know his name or anything, he just got in my way all agressive like, so I dropped 'em, only he kinda was perched up on a wall when he fell so he didn't go down fast? So I just kept hittin' em." Bones shrugs his shoulders and laughs a little. "I was kind of a fucking asshole, hehe. And yeah, that's the Grey Myrtle. Hopin' it shares nice with the redbud." "Well, more of how you wound up in there, is what I meant." Edyis asks, crouching now to watch the seeds go into the dirt. "I mean I've heard stories, but what people say about a person, and what the guy himself tells you are usually quite different things. Truth is - well it doesn't really exist the way people seem to think it does." She decides finally, "What kind of seeds? The Myrtle? Or something else?" Oh. Well, that would do it wouldn't it? Suddenly a lot of things make sense to Edyis. "Well I won't lie I certainly prefer Bones the gardener to Bones the Asshole." She quips in reply, though practice as she might, swearwords still sound unnatural coming from her. "Why seeds instead of branches?" "I'm still pretty much the same guy. Just less inclined towards smashing folk. I think cuttin' out the booze helped me on that front." He smoothes over the top of the soil with his palm, ensuring all the seeds are well covered, and then heads back to the bench to get the watering can. "And I put the seeds in because Grey Myrtle really don't take kindly to getting chopped up. Also, Redbud grows slow as fuck. Better to put it in like this and have half a plant goin' already." The plant is vigorously watered until the soil is very damp, and once again Bones is left to stand over it with hands on hips. "Now let's just see if these two can't get along, eh?" She laughs, "Yes well violence tends to be best used as a last resort." She dusts her own hands off looking at the pot with grin. "Sounds like a plan, although I'd best get going before I miss my shift in the Records room. Anytime you want an assistant though let me know. The plants stuff is pretty cool." "Hey, just don't blame me if they start bitchin' that you're gettin' their fancy records all covered in fertilizer. That's on you girlie. Hehe." He heads back to the workbench with watering can in hand, setting it down alongside the small bag of seed. "Likewise. Greenhouse ain't ever locked up. Jump down anytime to get your hands dirty, eh?" "Careful I may take you up on that." She grins, nodding as she makes her way back out in to the cold. |
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