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 Posted: Fri Aug 29, 2008 1:55 am
your world is dead. you are alive. so live.
The world has a funny way of giving her what she wants in ways she didn't ask for.
She wanted silence, for words which weren't hers to remain unheard, for impressions and colors she had no right to see to stop bleeding over into the void of her mind; now she has no voice, her words strangled before her tongue can form them. She makes no impression upon people and her colors are muted and dull.
(She is kneeling in the dirt, weeding the vegetable patch and ignoring a tingling across her shoulderblades she would later learn was sunburn. The pain just isn't important at the moment: she had cabbages to pull.)
Then she wanted to know what it was like to be alive. Not the rush of adrenaline that a brush with mortality would bring, because she learned mortality before she'd learned to walk, and the world did not bring her that; she wanted to know what it was like to be immersed in life, rushing waters instead of stagnant pools, the dim light of fireflies and the low buzz of dragonflies, the heat of sunlight pulsing beneath her skin. She dreamed vaguely of being with child, a shared breath, a heartbeat beneath her palm, and woke up each time feeling curiously wistful and bewildered. Used to prophecies and things really working out for the best for all parties involved, she expected one day to meet a nice young man that she might marry for convenience (and conceive that very night.)
The world gave her a garden instead, the hands of her people burying themselves in the earth and spreading the seeds beneath the soil as a surprise for her. It grew in wild and untamed, and so quickly that she feared the leafy growths sprouting from the dirt her house was built upon was a curse, that the vines would grow thorns and the bewildering bursts of colored petals would grow mouths. In only a few short weeks later she found herself craving the sterility of Terra, the tranquility of a land where time did not pass and flowers did not smear the sides of her walls with pollen. Desperate for a little order (and, secretly, a new hobby), she sharpened her shears and wielded a spade and immediately set to organizing the garden.
Now, a few weeks later, she's almost succeeded. Plants can be molded like people: they are reluctant to grow in the places she's cut into, all in the interest of cultivating them, and the easiest way to deal with the ones that aren't doing what she wants is tear them from the earth by their roots and throw them away. By now the vegetables have been separated and isolated into their own neat, square patches; the flowers have been grouped by complimentary colors and heights, carefully arranged around her house in places of varying shade in accordance to what she has discovered they like.
It is not perfect yet, but it is close. Expect for one thing, one flaw, one specimen she is not sure what to do with. It is a cabbage, bigger than a cabbage has any right to be, and it is in the middle of her dahlias. She brings the spade forward to stab it into the earth, to begin uprooting, and drops it when her hand brushes against the leafy green and identifies the flutter of a heartbeat.
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Posted: Fri Aug 29, 2008 12:07 pm
Third's 'journal', a logbook filled with meticulous observations in precise handwriting.
Cabbage, Brassica oleracea. Herbaceous, biennial, dicyotyledonous flowering plant. Easily identifiable by the mass of leaves, usually green but red or purplish in some varieties, sprouting from a short stem: forms a characteristic compact, globular cluster. Usually grows in autumn. Primarily used in cooking, commonly raw in coleslaw but is used in some cultures to treat inflammation (this is superstition and not based in truth.)
Shape and texture matches that of other cabbages, but illustrations of cross-sections indicate that cabbages do not have hearts, and its cardiovascular system (or lack thereof) makes 'pulsing' impossible. Could this be a different species of cabbage altogether? A side-effect of Terra's remains settling into Gaia mutating its natural vegetation? Perhaps a closer look at its molecular structure would be beneficial.
A pause. A rustle of paper.
Cabbages do not require a great deal of care. They prefer a medium to light soil which will retain a reasonable amount of water. Water liberally in dry periods. Too much water is harmful. Stress from lack of water will decrease quality. Supplement sandy soils with organic matter to hold water. Hoe around the area to control weeds and aerate the soil to deter pests. They are "greedy feeders" and flourish best with constant fertilization. Apply 1 to 2 pounds of an all-purpose fertilizer (20-20-20 per 100 feet of row. Side dress 3 weeks later with ammonium sulphate at rate of 1/2 cup per 10 feet of row.
Although cabbage is a biennial, flowering the second year, 2 to 3 weeks of temperatures below 50 degrees will stimulate the plant to bolt into flower. High heat causes heads to split, so encourage it to mature in cool weather.
Cabbage plants are very prone to looper and aphid invasions. Watch for and treat before they become serious infestations. Germination time: 15 days at 50° F.
Third's garden, carefully tamed and cultivated.
She isn't quite sure why she feels this cabbage needs more care than usual, or even deserves to remain in its mismatched spot. Emotional responses are not new, but acknowledging and following them against higher logic is; anyway, it may be that one (or more) of the Far Jadessans is pregnant and projecting the urge to nurture upon her. This makes more sense: it's too late in the summer for birds to hatch eggs and foxes to have kits, and she has always had a thankfully harder time empathizing with animals of smaller minds anyway.
Though normally she is careful to distribute fertilizer equally -- not out of respect for the plants' feelings and to discourage favoritism, but out of an instinctive need to conserve -- today she throws her cold, hard facts to the wind and carefully smothers the cabbage in plant food. (This is stupid too: it's not going to make it grow any faster.) She is not quite sure of her own intentions, or even if she is expecting anything more from it -- a monster, a prince, a solution to all the world's problems -- but now she feels more than anything else that this cabbage must survive.
Fall is coming. She should be trimming the hedges of dead flowerheads; instead she squats down and carefully pries yellowing, shriveled leaves from the cabbage. She should return to her house and read over the treaty ("We promise to stay in one place. We promise not to try to kill you anymore. Please don't wage war on us.") once more, making sure every word is in place and all potential for misunderstandings has been weeded out; instead she stands in the sunshine with the hose running, liberally sprinkling the dahlia-and-one-cabbage-patch. Sometimes the unimportant is priceless.
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Posted: Mon Dec 22, 2008 11:36 pm
--In which Nexus is discovered by the general populace screaming her head off in a bed of lettuce, and many years of sexual education are undone--
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2009 9:12 am
Roleplay with Orli » A Waiting Room
status: abandoned Third decides to investigate the address found on the underside of one of Nexus' leaves, and it leads her to a hospital and Nexus to a new... underling. It is a time of discovery for both of them.
View the wake of the aftermath here.
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Posted: Sun May 24, 2009 12:16 am
Third pays a visit to her siblings: Viral, Finis, and Imbue; and Nexus to her many, many cousins. Auntie Third had a baby! ...But the baby looks nothing like her! Where do babies come from, anyway? Even at only a few weeks old, Nexus proves to be a troublemaker, and comes to be liked by Sigil and Real (the former the child of King Finis and Queen Aria, the latter the b*****d child of Viral by a mother who doesn't want her name to be public.) Sere and Rend -- Sigil's younger siblings -- could do without her.
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