Half a proper gardener’s work is done upon his knees [OTA]

[markwatney]

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: Fields and nearby
WHEN: 23 May, evening
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Poop
STATUS: Open
NOTE: Please don't feel you have to talk to him about plants. I know how boring it can get.

---

The weather is starting to become a concern.

Now, I really am not a person prone to panic. Things have to be going pretty badly pretty abruptly for me to freak out. But I'm also aware of how nefarious a gradual change can be, and how dangerous to people not paying attention. Personally, I'm not interested in being a lobster in a slow-warming pot.

Then again, maybe I don't have much choice in that.

Point is, it's easier to pay attention to the fact that the sun is taking the opposite path in the sky than that we're getting way too warm too soon for this time of year. (And I could get into why it's implausible that the Earth has actually reversed rotation, including disruptions that would likely end all life, but it's way more boring than it sounds, so I'll just say I'm not buying it.) People are finding ways to cool off, and that's good -- Apart from physical health reasons, we don't get nearly enough opportunities to simply relax and have unfettered fun. The plants we've all been so tending so judiciously, though, don't have the option to take a dip.

The hail was bad enough. The damage was... Well, it wasn't great, obviously, but nothing we couldn't recover from. Assuming, of course, that everything stays relatively predictable. This heat and lack of rain? It isn't predictable.

I've been out in the fields all day today, even longer than normal, taking notes and measurements, doing what I can to ensure the plants are well fed and watered. We really cannot afford to lose a significant part of this harvest, not with the number of people in the village now. It's tedious, back-breaking work, but it has to be done.

And it's honestly probably a testament to how tedious and back-breaking it is that I am tired and distracted enough that I end up covered in shit. Not metaphorical shit; actual shit, courtesy of a poorly-timed misstep while I was shoveling fertilizer. Manure's coated all along the front of my thighs and torso, splashed up to my neck and chin.

"God damn it," I moan, picking myself up with a wince.

Comments

[warriorborn]

Benedict, having taken it upon himself to use his strong arms to start hauling water to and from the rain barrel so that the plants can be watered cup by tedious cup since the clouds don't seem inclined to do the work for them, manages to see the entire debacle start to finish. Unfortunately for Mr Watney, his arms are full with the washbasin from the inn, a washbasin that is thankfully full of fresh, clean water from the fountain. He may not have a cloth or soap on hand, but at least there's water.

"Oh dear," he says mildly, watching as Mr Watney stands there, covered in manure. It reeks to high heaven, and Benedict still finds the whole thing rather appalling — they are to use excrement to feed their plants? How? That's disgusting — but Mr Watney is a botanist, which means he has studied plants extensively, and since Benedict's only experience with gardening is things growing in sterile vatsand, he's decided to bow to others' greater knowledge and just follow their lead.

Luckily, he's not followed them so blindly that he's covered in shit as well. "Well, it'll all come out in the wash. Would you like to trade places? I think I can stand to shovel for a while if you'd like to..." he shifts the basin to prop it up against one hip, using his newly-freed hand to gesture at his front, as if he were the one who'd had an accident.

[markwatney]

This is probably going to take more than what that basin can handle, but it's a good place to start. It'll keep me from tracking shit into the house, at least, and staving off Helen's completely-justified irritation.

"Thanks," I reply as I finish picking myself up and take stock of the damage. I can say this much: The back of me was shit-free.

"Watch out for that first step, it's a doozy."

[thegreatexperiment]

Sam was still trying to get a lay of the land. If she were Avery, no doubt, she would have already mapped out the entire town, with symbols and drawings that would make a cartographer weep with envy. But she wasn't Avery. Frankly, she was still pissed at Avery. So it was entirely possible that she was biting off her nose to spite her face, forcing herself not to think like Avery. Just. Because.

But she figured she might as well play up the part of a tourist. If nothing else, she'd met some fucking weird and wonderful folks, so far. And some of them actually seemed to be nice without a hidden agenda. She didn't really know what to make of that, but she liked it.

She liked it a lot, actually.

Admittedly, she wasn't quite ready to do the whole 'introspection' thing. But she had to admit, there were perks to being surrounded by humans.

Unfortunately, there were drawbacks too. And when a decidedly organic aroma hit her mid-stride, she literally gagged, making a face as she looked up and realized she had no fucking idea where she was.

[markwatney]

"I'll do my best to not accidentally fling any your way, but you might want to keep a safe distance just in case," I warn as I right myself and look down at the damage. I probably needed a break, but this was not the way I would have liked to go about it.

"You look a little lost." She's new, obviously; there aren't so many people here that you can't tell when one of them is fresh out of the fountain. Not to mention that color of hair is difficult to mistake.

[thegreatexperiment]

She looked up in the direction of the voice. And saw a guy. Covered in shit. It was...oddly normal for her. And she couldn't help but smirk a little bit, remembering the batshit crazy guy who'd come out of the sewers after the Rain, calling himself the 'Sultan of Shit' and threatening to declare praxis.

Hopefully, this guy was less...gross.

"What are you?" she asked, tilting her head to one side. "A monkey? Into shit-flinging?"

Yes, she was lost, all right. But Sam hated owning up to that kind of thing. 'I don't know' were probably her three least favorite words in the English language. Followed closely by 'The Lizard shot first.'

[markwatney]

"I'm a botanist," I answer as I make a futile attempt to brush off my hands. "Usually more into shit-stirring. Or shit spreading. It really depends on the day."

Squinting against the sunlight, I glance back up at my new blue-haired friend. "Would you be willing to do me a favor?"

[thegreatexperiment]

Botany? Well, it wasn't exactly Sam's favorite science. But at least it was akin. It wasn't like that shitty social science nonsense she couldn't really understand.

'Shit' still being the operative word. Apparently.

She shrugged, a few of her synthetic curls falling back over her shoulder. "Sure," she said. "As long as it isn't shit stirring."

[markwatney]

"If you just go left down the road here," I begin, pointing out past the town hall to the dusty stripe just beyond. "There's an old butcher's shop next door. Unless there's been a run on soap today, there should be some stacked on the counter. The bars, not the liquid. If you could grab one of those and meet me down by the dock—" I hesitate, tilting my head.

"You know where the river is?" It's a little bit of a walk to ask of someone I don't know, truth be told, but the way I figure it, we'll both be happier the sooner I get rinsed off.

[3ofswords]

It's too hot for this shit.

Farming is something Kira's only so inclined to do in mild weather, but between telling himself to put in his fair effort after Casey's disappearance, and promising Ravi the plants would be fine to get him out of the storm--he's taken the shears to his scrubs to make a ragged pair of shorts, swapped for one of his off-white tanks, and dragged his ass out into the baking fields to offer some help.

When he spots Mark, he tells Aurora to sit and stay with a hand between her ears, wary of her friendliness rubbing anyone else the wrong way.

Well, someone he respects not to really fuck with, anyway. Kira's making his way over to ask what's already done when he sees Mark literally eat shit. He stops in his tracks for a moment, wondering if he can pass out of view before he's seen abandoning the man downed in his own fertilizer project, but Mark didn't walk away when he was cursing the universe mid-hypothermia.

"This is why I didn't want this job," he says, jogging up to the edge of the shit-pile. "How do you want me to help that doesn't involve touching you."

Establishing boundaries early on is the key to any healthy relationship.

[markwatney]

"Nobody wants this job," I point out as I push myself to my feet and assess the damage. No piece of clothing was left unscathed, which means a complete change of clothes along with a bath.

"It would be very helpful of you could run over to my house, grab my overalls, a shirt and a bar of soap, and meet me down by the dock." If I track this into Helen's house, she'll definitely skewer me. "My bedroom's in the back; you'll know which one it is, it's full of plants."

[3ofswords]

Kira's happy enough to get his distance on Mark with a sure, you're up at Ravi's right and a whistle for Aurora's attention. He leaves her with the good doctor and his not-girlfriend, making good on his offer to let Ravi see her more often. The last thing he wants is for her to recreate all the times he saw stray dogs rolling in the fucking garbage with Mark's clothes.

When he finds Mark, he has a fresh set of clothes under one arm and a bar of Helen's soap in the other hand. "I'm glad we've reached the point in our relationship where we've both seen each other naked," he comments, making a wide berth of the shit-stained pile to hand them over. "Though I think we've established one of my hard-no's in the process."

[markwatney]

"You and me both," I answer with a snort. I've still got my underwear on, so at least there's that, but that doesn't mean anybody's lining up to fawn over my pasty thighs. Except, oddly, maybe Ravi.

I wave away the clothes, not wanting to touch them yet, and pluck the soap from Kira's hand. I brace myself as I wade into the water, but it's not nearly as cold as I remember it, which is concerning on a whole other level. It's still cool, but it's definitely warmed considerably since leaving its source.

"See, this is the sort of thing that makes for a great story when you're old and sitting around the fire," I call back as I begin lathering up the soap. "Remember when I had to bring you clothes because you were covered in shit? Good times."

[3ofswords]

Moving up-stream from Mark, Kira slips his feet free of his boots, perching Mark's fresh clothes on top of them. There aren't any pant legs to roll up anymore, and for a minute he feels like some deep-woods kid from one of the books they read in school, tore-up summer clothes and river water running over his bare feet, smooth stones under his toes.

There were probably people covered in livestock-shit in those too, he wouldn't really remember. Wedging his thumbs in his waistband to weight his elbows out against his posture, he looks slightly back at Mark, not really giving him privacy so much as having better things to look at: "If I'm old around a camp fire, you're living out of your bed, hotboxing all that weed you're growing at the house."

[markwatney]

"That's probably true," I allow as I reach for my shirt, rinsed earlier and slopped over a boulder along with my pants to keep them from floating away in the current. "If Ravi's still around at that point, it's definitely true." Not that I can't see the benefit in toking up every once in awhile, but the truth is that mostly, I'm just the guy who grows it.

I look up from where I'm scrubbing the shirt fabric between my hands. "If you want any of that weed, just let me know. As you saw, we have no shortage of it."

[thenewways]

Though Nerys has no idea what is and isn't normal, she's been and lived in enough temperate climates to be able to tell when the turning of a season is too quick, and certainly when planetary rotation is...uh...askew. The latter seems to bear theories like Peggy's holosuite idea out, that they're all in a simulacrum, but at the same time, Nerys would like to believe that she can tell when things are a holo and when they aren't.

Beings can't live by eating holo-plants, for example, and those plants can't grow in construct dirt, so here she is out watering the garden as best as she's able with the grey water they've managed to collect from communal mealtimes. That is, she's watering the garden until there's a holler and an audible splat.

Nerys is pretty sure shit doesn't stink quite as much in a holoprogramme either.

Unfortunately most of her water is already soaking rapidly into the thirsty ground, so she sets down the bucket and jogs over to where Watney has taken a tumble. "Prophets' balls," she says, looking at him and grimacing. "Well, I'd say a bath is a good excuse for a rest break."

[markwatney]

"Maybe someone up there is trying to tell me something," I allow as I pick myself up. I take special care, but I see quickly enough that there's little point: I'm covered from ankles to chest.

"On the bright side, I didn't get any in my mouth," I add, still grimacing. Smiling isn't easily done when you're covered in shit, even if you are trying to crack a joke.

"You think you could find me some soap so I can rinse off in the river? I don't think I could manage to not leave a trail of shit inside if I did it myself."

[thenewways]

"Mark, if I know the Prophets, wouldn't that be 'full of shit' instead of 'covered in'?" Nerys asks with faux-innocent doe eyes and a deadpan expression--that lasts all of about five seconds before she pats him on the shoulder (in a location that hasn't been splattered). "Just giving you a hard time, but you're right, at least it's only on the outside."

She nods and holds up a finger. "Give me a second, I'll grab you something from inside, and try to find something to use for a towel."

A quick jog to the Inn, and five minutes or so of rummaging, and she's back with a long piece of curtain fabric and some of Magnus' herbal soap. Watney doesn't strike her as particularly fond of scented toiletries, but the smell involved here really needs...a little something.

[markwatney]

I huff out a soft laugh as I watch her go, and start the walk toward the river. There's still the runoff barrel that Nerys had set up last year behind the inn, but despite the walk, the river just seems the most expedient and hygienic way to get clean.

Pausing at the crossroads by the inn, I carefully pull off my shirt and examine my hat, which looks like it survived unscathed.

[thenewways]

Nerys makes an educated guess as to which way Watney's gone--and the educated guess in this case doesn't really require higher logic, as there's a faint trail of manure, and as the wind changes, there's the scent too.

"Need me to hold that?" she asks, clearing her throat and holding out the soap and ersatz towel from a relatively safe distance. "While you wash, I mean. It looks like it's in decent shape."

[markwatney]

"Yeah, thanks," I reply as I hold out the hat with the tips of my fingers. "The towel, too. I think it would defeat the purpose if I touched it now," I add with a soft laugh, although I do gratefully pluck the soap from the pile and start making my way down toward the river.

"You may be surprised to know that in over twenty years of being a botanist, this is the first time I have landed in a pile of shit." Hopefully I can go another 20 without it happening again.

[zomboligist]

If there's anything that can be said for Ravi's growth as a person, it's that he doesn't point and laugh when Mark slips and falls in a large pile of shit. Really, that's just leaps and bounds for him, given that other people's embarrassment has been known to fuel him through some of his worse moments. Still, that doesn't mean he also wants to get close enough to get his hands dirty (not like that).

He may be a good friend and he may be out here to help Mark (especially in the function of 'drink this water before you die' alarm clock), but, well, "I'm sorry to say, but we're not good enough friends yet for me to get covered in shit to help you at this moment in time," he says, even going so far as to take a step back. "You still look pretty?" he offers, like this is a glass half full situation.

[markwatney]

"Now I really don't believe you," I answer as I push myself up and look down at my front, now completely coated in a pungent mixture of cow, sheep and goat manure from toe to collar.

"I'm not sure that I'm ready for the level of friendship that involves transfer of feces," I promise. "However, it would be very helpful if you could go back to the house and pick me up a bar of soap. I think I need the entire river to deal with this."

[zomboligist]

Ravi wrinkles his nose when the manure is everywhere, just everywhere, which makes him feel like he needs to take a sympathy shower just to get the smell off of himself. "Just one bar?" he jokes, but he might not actually be so light about this, because this looks like a three-bar-problem, which he really wishes he'd said out loud, now, because no one is going to appreciate the cleverness in his own head.

"Be right back, try not to let any animals find you too alluring," is her warning in parting, heading to the house to dig through Mark's and then Helen's things to find multiple bars of soap, briskly walking back to hold them up. "Here," he says, already a little out of breath from that "run". "So? Growing anything yet?"

[markwatney]

"Not on my person, no," I reply with a roll of my eyes, and hold out my hands palm-up so Ravi can drop the soap into them without having to possibly accidentally touch me.

"I should have asked you to bring me a change of clothes and a towel," I add as I start the walk toward the river. "I guess I'll just have to walk back in my underwear. Hopefully no one will pass out from my unfettered beauty." I shoot Ravi a wry look.

[zomboligist]

Ravi leans as far away as he can, grateful for all the lankiness in his limbs so that it means he doesn't have to get too close (he's already wishing he had thought to invent nose plugs, too). "I mean, you could stand to do more leg days," Ravi deadpans sarcastically, as if Mark isn't in perfectly good shape and could run laps around him on any given day.

"Go on, start scrubbing and I'll see if I can't rustle up a towel or something. The least I can do. Do you know what the sad thing is?" he calls over his shoulder, raising his voice so he can still speak as he heads to the nearest house. "You're not the worst thing I've smelled in my career!"