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sixthiterationlogs2016-09-01 12:45 am
warriorborn) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-09-01 12:45 am
002; and if you sing this melody, you'll be pretending just like me
WHO: Benedict Sorellin-Lancaster
WHERE: Vegetable patch behind the Town Hall/The Inn
WHEN: September 1st
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open
And then he found out about the vegetable garden, and finally, there is something he can do.
Growing in soil is highly uncommon in Spires, mainly because the logistics of getting soil in which to grow plants so far off the ground is a nightmare. However, the monks at the Temple of the Way managed to acquire many things that the general populace did not, and Benedict remembers many long hours spent carefully tending little green shoots in rich, dark soil being part of his novitiate training.
The soil here isn't quite the same, not nearly as loamy between his fingers, but it is still cool and damp, and settling to his knees between the little plants to pluck the weeds and make sure nothing is growing that shouldn't be and no critters are eating anything they shouldn't is nearly meditative in nature, and for the first time since he crawled out of the fountain, he feels at peace. Even being down on the Surface isn't enough to dim his good mood.
He's going to build a skep or two for the bees to live in. That, more than the occasional shift weeding, will be one of his more helpful contributions to the habble, he thinks.
There is not much hay with which to work as there don't seem to be any fields that have been cultivated for that purpose, but Benedict likes to think he's able to problem-solve as well as anyone else, and he's decided to supplement what dried grasses he was able to collect with the reeds that grow along the riverbank. Along with the reeds, he discovered a beautiful willow tree that supplied exactly the kind of branches he needed so that he could split them into three thinner sections to "sew" the twisted reeds and hay together. It's a somewhat messy job, which is why he's set up shop on the front steps of the Inn, off to one side so he can spread out his materials without making a huge mess in the common room (which would, of course, mean running the risk of getting scolded by Miss Kelly for increasing the need for sweeping).
Whistling to himself, Benedict takes one of the thin, supple willow branches and starts to whittle down one end, smoothing it out before he makes a cut with a knife at the end and starts to carefully split it down its length.
WHERE: Vegetable patch behind the Town Hall/The Inn
WHEN: September 1st
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open
When Benedict learned that there was a vegetable patch that had been set up behind the town hall, he had been nearly overjoyed. Finally, something he could do! Stripped of his gauntlet and his sword, unable to use many of the so-called weapons that had been dubiously provided for them, and never having hunted a day in his life -- frankly, he finds the whole idea more than a little off-putting, killing an animal and then eating it like some kind of barbarian -- he's been feeling rather useless since he popped out of the fountain. He's been spending his time doing what he can around the Inn, helping Miss Kelly with her lunchtime preparations, stirring pots for her and cleaning up after all is said and done. But even that can only take up so much of his time, and he's felt uncomfortably idle once all the washing-up had been completed.
VEGETABLE PATCH
And then he found out about the vegetable garden, and finally, there is something he can do.
Growing in soil is highly uncommon in Spires, mainly because the logistics of getting soil in which to grow plants so far off the ground is a nightmare. However, the monks at the Temple of the Way managed to acquire many things that the general populace did not, and Benedict remembers many long hours spent carefully tending little green shoots in rich, dark soil being part of his novitiate training.
The soil here isn't quite the same, not nearly as loamy between his fingers, but it is still cool and damp, and settling to his knees between the little plants to pluck the weeds and make sure nothing is growing that shouldn't be and no critters are eating anything they shouldn't is nearly meditative in nature, and for the first time since he crawled out of the fountain, he feels at peace. Even being down on the Surface isn't enough to dim his good mood.
His excitement at discovering the vegetable patch was nothing compared to his excitement when he learned that the head gardener -- Mister Watney, according to Miss Kelly -- was intending to establish a bee hive. He'd seen a few fat little yellow and black insects bobbing around the late-blooming wildflowers that still dot the valley in which their habble is set, but the idea to try and collect them into a hive of their own hadn't occurred to him until it was suggested, and then it was all he could think about.
THE INN; front steps
He's going to build a skep or two for the bees to live in. That, more than the occasional shift weeding, will be one of his more helpful contributions to the habble, he thinks.
There is not much hay with which to work as there don't seem to be any fields that have been cultivated for that purpose, but Benedict likes to think he's able to problem-solve as well as anyone else, and he's decided to supplement what dried grasses he was able to collect with the reeds that grow along the riverbank. Along with the reeds, he discovered a beautiful willow tree that supplied exactly the kind of branches he needed so that he could split them into three thinner sections to "sew" the twisted reeds and hay together. It's a somewhat messy job, which is why he's set up shop on the front steps of the Inn, off to one side so he can spread out his materials without making a huge mess in the common room (which would, of course, mean running the risk of getting scolded by Miss Kelly for increasing the need for sweeping).
Whistling to himself, Benedict takes one of the thin, supple willow branches and starts to whittle down one end, smoothing it out before he makes a cut with a knife at the end and starts to carefully split it down its length.
no subject
Pain keeps a person focused.
"A beehive?" he echoes with an academic curiosity, leaning an arm on the rail. You can take the postulant out of Scholar training, but you can't take the Scholar training out of the postulant; he recognizes the word, but he hasn't seen one outside of a book before.
"You're into beekeeping now?"
no subject
He shrugs, lifting one shoulder elegantly as he skillfully strips the bark and any leaf nubbins off the wood in his lap. "When I was younger, I had thoughts to join the Order of the Way. There were bees at the monastery, and it was part of my duties as a novitiate to learn care for them. The monks taught me how to build a skep and how to tend the bees once they colonize it."
It's a little late in the season to collect much honey, he thinks, but it wouldn't do to let their little bee colony drift away to greener pastures, or worse, die over the winter months that are apparently on their way.
no subject
But then, is that really any more surprising than a book smuggler wanting to keep books and ending up in the service of the Library? Jess doesn't know what he looks like to others--the street rat he'd once been? a soldier? a spy? all of the above? none?--or if he fits into any mental category. He hadn't had a choice in what to do with his life, so it would be difficult compare the person he'd imagined himself to be and the person he is now, like Benedict.
He's always been a Brightwell, and that's always had to be enough.
"What happened? You said you had thoughts. You didn't go through with the vows in the end?"