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"Well I've hardly been in any position to keep up the maintenance," said Irving, now sweeping his eyes to the ground, somehow looking both sad and like he'd been the one who'd been gravely insulted. "There's some overgrowth, and of course some cracks. It's been a thousand years, but as far as I know it's nothing catastrophic." He finally looked to Pendour. "I'd certainly see what you can do."

Pendour still sat up too straight, and now her breath was running hot as hot through her chest as what Irving had been saying caught up with her. There was no hope for a smile even if she wanted to learn how to fake happiness, but she did get her voice up, and a little smoother.

"Thank you," she said, formal like the way that they were speaking, firm, and final. "I have some things I'll talk about with you next time I come up."

Then she sat there, brows knit, twirling the beads on her bracelet so intensely that the noise of it echoed across the stones.

Irving seemed to get the message. "Of course," he said with a deep nod, keeping up the smile. "I'll leave you and your friend to your meal," he said, and he did, still on decent behavior for Encke, she suspected. Still, he was off down the walkway towards the bedroom.

As soon as he turned away, Pendour's shoulders dropped. He made it about fifteen feet before she took a bite of cookie and silently burst into tears.

There was no keeping it in. She didn't want to make Encke see her like this when he'd just been so good about Irving, but two things Pendour still had raw nerves about were the eye and her friends.

She cried. There were tears and she took harsh breaths and squeezed Encke tight, tighter than he might have expected. She was lanky, maybe, and had a soft voice, but there was a strength to her, too, and the strength from the magic on top of that that she was still not fully used to. That was where she stayed for several seconds that stretched out long, letting the contact calm her and the tears keep her anger down.

Then, she pulled away slowly, starting on deep breaths and taking a look at the columns that Irving had vanished behind. "Sorry," she murmured, reaching up to wipe at her eyes with the back of her knuckles. "I mean, thank you."

It was one of the suggestions from therapy, to not apologize for existing or for having emotions, although she wasn't sure how it extended to her wonder or her ancestor. Irving was a little like the half youma who went around attacking people without reason who wouldn't apologize for themselves, which left her feeling like someone should.

She finally took a bite of her sandwich, which was lovely and helped ground her back to their little picnic. She even had her smile half-back when she next looked up at Encke. "I think he liked you."

All of the trying to get through to Irving meant that Encke had gotten ahead of her on the food. Pendour got a few more bites of sandwich in while Encke let out his true feelings and she blinked away the last of her tears. She didn't think she was going to catch up, but she did polish off her first sandwich.

Then she was back to fiddling with her beads, her good eye locked on the farther columns like she was expecting Irving to come back like a bad dream. He didn't, and she turned back to Encke, brows knitted although her voice stayed gentle. "That was his good behavior," she said. "I try to understand. He's been here a thousand years. That would be enough to drive anyone mad as mad, and then when I do come along I last all of a few months before-" she cut off, not with more tears but with a voice crack and then a heavy breath. Encke would get the story if he ever asked, but not before. "And when I die, he'll be here a thousand more," she said.

She was sorry about that, just like she was sorry for anyone else her passing might hurt, but she wasn't the type to fight tooth and nail for her life. That would cause more pain in the scheme of things. She could try to be more careful. That was all.

She nodded when Encke mentioned he could help her fix things up. "He does care about the wonder," she said. "I just wish he was nicer. Less ableist, is maybe the word?" That wasn't quite it, though. He'd sent her running home even when she'd had two eyes. "Then I could maybe take talking to him long enough to figure it out." At least she was getting bits and pieces of information.

She reached for another sandwich.

Pendour had considered many, many things about Irving, but his ceasing to exist at any point had not been one of them. At least, not in her life. Not until the wonder crumbled back into the sea. He seemed part and parcel of it, and Scholomance hadn't told her any differently. Of course, the time she'd brought him up here, she'd left a mess over seeing the bones and hadn't asked too much about specifics.

"Maybe I should write him," she said with a slight nod, looking over the remainders of the food before going for another sugar cookies. "I'm not surprised that there's more to being a knight than I know."

It was still a challenge to contact old acquaintances, sometimes, but if anyone, he should understand about the eye. She was trying to get better about it, anyway.

"Still, I don't think I can take Irving's place if my starseed's taken." It was said softly, as casually as something she'd accepted and that she hoped Encke could, too. Then she took a bite of cookie and smiled at the sweetness.

Encke was being sweet as sweet too, and she could easily forgive him for being a bit protective. She smiled wide, even as she shook her head ever so slightly, without even really knowing she was doing it. "You've been so, so kind about everything since the first time I've met you. Really. I couldn't ask for someone who's more willing to show me around, or to help out, or for someone more respectful, or for a better friend, really." At that, she actually managed a moment of eye contact, and her smile showed teeth.

"So I'd really like if this could be a nice place for you to come. Not a chore, or even a favor. Irving is my ancestor. Um," she trailed off for a moment, her gaze flickering back across the mosaics. "It's still been so helpful having you up here." This was the first time she'd stayed more than ten minutes. "And if you're ever feeling up for cleaning out some of the rooms or something, I can pay for your lunch." More hands would certainly help with the process.

The hesitation from Encke when Pendour mentioned death set the heaviness back in her chest. She didn't want to worry her friend, but the thing about connections was that they were rooted in empathy, and the thing about empathy was that it often went both ways, and at the root of it, Pendour had been dealing with fear and sadness that her soft words couldn't quite cover.

It was good that empathy worked for happiness, too. Her rare toothy grin went wider at the tease.

"Well, if backbreaking work on a haunted wonder is what brings your soul peace, I'm no one to stop you," she said, eyes just a little too innocent. "And if it turns out to be food, well, that's typical enough." She laughed lightly even as she gave a deeper nod, still all gratitude.

Then she straightened, leaning back on her hands and softening again. "Oh, but you should still take your turn hosting, if that's okay. It would be so nice to see your fountain, to see water somewhere else, and those glowing plants sounded lovely, too." Her fingers curled against the tile as she thought about it. "And I'll help you, too, if I can. See, I brought you something."

She rummaged down in the very bottom of her bag, which was now looking rather deflated, and she pulled out three more seed packets that she held out to him. They were Roma tomatoes, bell peppers, and red chili peppers, each the hardiest variety she could find online, more likely to grow than the dollar packets that had started popping up in the supermarket.

If it wasn't obvious enough that Pendour was itching to get her fingernails under the soil, she said, "Maybe we can start with garden plots when you're done? I haven't actually gone through them, yet."

She smiled to see Encke looking happy about the seeds. She knew that not everyone saw the delicate beauty in growing things quite the way that she did, so that she often had to hold back to keep from drowning her friends in plants they didn't need. It was good that there was space up here to grow things, and it made her heart go light to know that Encke was interested in gardening, even if it was for more practical reasons.

Pendour was starting to get excited at the thought of this freshly made space salsa. Maybe the tomatoes would even glow. Wouldn't that be interesting? She carried her soft, dreamy smile at just the thought of it.

For now, it was time for her own experiments. She nodded when asked to leave and started packing up her bag, carefully packing the leftovers for her late night snack. "It's where we started, more or less," she said, and then stood to lead the way. "Well, at least this is the one I keep walking past."

It wasn't a long walk, maybe a few blocks by city measurements. They'd find themselves near the edge of the glass bubble, with the ocean stretching out in front of them, seemingly infinite. The masonry hadn't fared as well over here, but despite the cracks running through tile and marble, it was clear that this area had once been set up like a formal garden. Lowered beds formed shapes and pathways around shapes that had likely once been fountains, although it was mostly bases and rubble. Half of the beds still had some soil in them, while the others were made of the smooth marble like the other water features and held bits of dried coral.

Pendour ignored those for the moment and knelt again at the patch of soil closest to the main pathway. She pulled off her glove in a single motion and then burrowed her hand knuckles-deep into the dirt. Then, she looked back over her shoulder, mouth wide and eyes bright. "It's not dry!" It still wasn't the softest, but it didn't feel so different than any old, abandoned garden back on Earth.

"Yeah," Pendour breathed, and she was already turning back to the dirt, peeling off her other glove and then digging her hands deep. Earth might have been the the wrong term, but it was soil, cool and slightly damp and not quite smooth under her fingers. It felt like any garden, but maybe that was to be expected. All dirt was ancient, even if it was such a familiar thing that humans forgot how long it had been around.

She wasn't just feeling the dirt for the texture of it, though. She was looking for something. "That must mean-" she cut off as her hands hit metal, long narrow pipes of it that were smooth as smooth. Her smile only got wider. She scooped out a small hole by it, or tried too, although the soil was loose from her working now and tried to slide back in. She had to twist again to look to Encke and wave him closer, reaching out so she could guide his hand to feel the pipe. "Here," she said. "You'll like this. It looks like there's some kind of irrigation set up, and it's working!"

So some of the water flow had survived! Well, that, or it was the other way. Hadn't someone mentioned that sometimes a knight's presence in itself could sometimes be enough to heal her wonder? Was something maybe starting to change? She didn't know, and couldn't find out without asking Irving, who she was more than content to let stay in his room for the time being. Either way, it warmed her heart to see a little bit of the structure here serving its purpose.

"The soil's likely still nutrient poor," she said. "Plants eat sun, but the nutrients their roots take up come from organics in the soil. I don't think any of that would have lasted here." As she talked, she pulled out the last two secrets from her bag, which were a giant reusable water bottle, and a small bag of potting soil. The water wasn't as needed now, but she ripped open the bag and started dumping it out. "I think if we mix this in it should help." She was still giddy at the excitement of the water, but she still wasn't sure how this would work. At least seeds were cheap enough.