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 Posted: Sat Jan 24, 2026 5:02 pm
 This is a solo rp for the above soquili for the below prompt For those soquili with a green hoof, it is almost time to harvest before the summer sun wilts crops. Does your soquili partake in any farming or gardening? If so, what do they plant? How do they care for their garden? Do they work solo, with familiars or are they part of a herd or family who work together? Are they farming for food, are they gardening flowers, do they grow herbs for medicine or are they trying to conserve or restore a damaged plot of land?
If they don't farm or garden, why not? Do they not have the skill? Have they killed every plant they've tried to keep alive? Do they want to learn but don't know where to start? Maybe they can reach out to a farming or gardening soquili to get some tips! If they don't farm or garden, how do they eat? Do they live off the land and forage for food or are they hunters?
Write an RP responding to the above prompt telling us about how/why your soquili farms/gardens if they do. Or why not if they don't and what they do instead.
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Posted: Sat Jan 24, 2026 5:45 pm
He wasn't sure when it had started, the flower gardening. Granted, most of his family had always been fond of flowers - in fact they seemed central to their family! - and they had to come from somewhere. It wasn't considered "unmanly" or anything of the sort but still, growing up he hadn't imagined himself a farmer let alone one that almost exclusively grew flowers. The gruff stallion surprised even his family when he took up the hoe in service to these delicate blossoms and yet year by year here he was, cultivating some of the most lovely blooms this side of the river.
He didn't talk while he did it. He didn't talk much ever, as others have come to expect. When someone starts to talk too much around him he just fixes them with one of his looks and he stares them down until they leave him alone. That's the way he prefers it. Perhaps that's what drew him to the dirt in the first place - the solitude. The silence. The hard work and the sweat and the sun beating down and the hunger and the exhaustion, all in exchange for the peace and quiet from everyone else. It wasn't that he hated everyone, or even that they got on his nerves. He just had nothing to say back and it made him uncomfortable not to talk or to simply grunt back in response, as was his way.
So he goes to the dirt. He built himself a garden with walls and neat rows for each organized species of flower to grow. He tends it daily, measuring moisture levels in the soil and air to the best of his abilities and pruning and weeding and giving nutrition to the plants at each stage of growth until they bloom for him. That was honestly his favorite part, when the bud finally opens up and he gets to see how well of a job he did in helping it grow and develop. The more beautiful the flower, the better job he did. His blood, sweat, and tears were in each petal.
Today was no such exception. He needed to do some watering, and unfortunately for him he forgot to refill his reservoir before he went to bed and it didn't rain overnight. So off to the river he had to go to collect some. It would take several trips to fill the reservoir, then many trips from the reservoir to the garden to water the plants. He set out at sunrise and was done filling the reservoir by noon, sweating and hungry. He decided to take a break for lunch before moving on to watering the plants themselves. He poked his head in to the garden and checked a few of the flowers to make sure they weren't wilting in the heat, but they seemed like they would withstand his lunch break, so he set off to his other garden.
Further from his house he had another garden just for food, with all sorts of berries and corn and carrots and apples and other sorts of goodies and here he loaded up on fruits and nuts and veggies to take back home to eat there. He filled his pack with more than lunch so he didn't have to come back out for more for the rest of the day. Before he left he checked this garden too, but he had watered it yesterday and it was still in good shape. He alternated taking care of the gardens to keep from burning out.
Once he returned home he began the arduous task of carrying the water to the garden and carefully giving each bloom its precise amount of water. It took hours, but once it was done he was ready to go go through and prune and weed. He did this silently as well, his eyes focused on each bloom as he moved slowly, carefully. He didn't want to disturb the flowers, but help them grow. He removed dead petals and leaves, congested branches, weeds, and other irritants. He cleared away nuisance bugs while letting helpful ones stay. It took many more hours but by nightfall the garden was pristine and he was famished once more. He moved into the house to get his bounty from earlier and because fueling his body.
He thought about his garden and how much he enjoyed the simplicity of the tasks. Here he was, sweating and tired to the bone and ravenously hungry, but he was satisfied with the day's work and happy. The flowers were near ready to harvest and then he could give sell them at the market or give them away to the family. Where they went didn't matter much to him, it was the work that satisfied him.
He took a bite of apples and savored the sweetness. The harvest would be good this year and he was becoming excited to make cider this year. He took another bite and switched to carrots, which also were showing out with delightful firmness and sweetness as well. The crops were really quality this year. He took another bite.
He thought about the prospect of passing this farm down one day and it made him happy. He wanted to teach others the satisfaction of a good days work and how nice it can be to harvest the perfect flower. He thought about that pretty Fenri he met some time ago and wondered if she might be wondering about him right now too. He knew just the flower to give her when he saw her next.
He finished his food and his ruminating and stood with a stretch. He really was tired down to the bone. He slowly cleaned up from dinner, though because of weariness not thoughtfulness. Once everything was clean again he got himself cleaned up and ready for bed and laid down gratefully on his comfortable bed. He closed his eyes and thought while he was happy he did the work he was also grateful that tomorrow he didn't have to do it again.
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