Rosethorn (Nivalin Greenhow) (
earthandpine) wrote in
thebastion2014-01-13 10:48 pm
Shawls, cleaning, and gardening
Who: Rosethorn and anyone!
Open: Open
When: Day 147
Where: gazebo, all around the Bastion, the farm; wherever your character finds her!
What: a gift from home leads to a very homesick plant mage
Format: prose preferred but I'll match whatever!
Warnings: Just the usual, if you annoy her she'll threaten to hang you in a well by your ankles. (Please do this. She's been too nice lately.)
Rosethorn is up at dawn as usual, or as close to dawn as Tris manages to give them in the Bastion. She stops by the gazebo out of curiosity. She doubts anything will be there, since she didn't choose any of the gods, none of them quite closely enough aligned with her own. At first glance, Rosethorn doesn't notice it. Then she gasps, a hand going to her mouth. "Lark." She drops to her knees and picks the shawl up hesitantly, letting it unfold as she does. The socks lay unnoticed as she wraps it around herself, feeling warmth and comfort sink into her as she does. It isn't just sentiment. Lark knitted spells into the shawl, healing, strength, and warmth radiating from it and into its wearer. A shawl knitted by her lover shouldn't come as such a surprise, given Tris's present, but it does.
She's never missed home quite so much, but having something of Lark's means the world to her. Whenever she finally does notice the socks, Rosethorn smiles. Lark would approve of this part of the gift too. It seems fitting.
Later in the day, she helps clean up from the festival with her usual brisk efficiency. She can be found anywhere in the Bastion she notices a job that needs doing. Anyone familiar with Rosethorn's usual dark green temple robes may notice the opal shawl. It's unusual to see her attire change much at all except in concession to weather. Even if her temple and her world are gone, the very earth in which her plants grew, Rosethorn is still an Earth dedicate, and she dresses as one.
As soon as she feels like she's done enough cleaning, Rosethorn steals away. She spends the rest of the day hiding, so to speak, on the farm. She checks on the Navit plants and does some weeding, shawl carefully folded and set out of range of dirt. Hiding is of course not a very accurate description. Where else would anyone look for a plant mage?
She won't leave the plants until clouds shift to block the sun, marking the end of the day.
Open: Open
When: Day 147
Where: gazebo, all around the Bastion, the farm; wherever your character finds her!
What: a gift from home leads to a very homesick plant mage
Format: prose preferred but I'll match whatever!
Warnings: Just the usual, if you annoy her she'll threaten to hang you in a well by your ankles. (Please do this. She's been too nice lately.)
Rosethorn is up at dawn as usual, or as close to dawn as Tris manages to give them in the Bastion. She stops by the gazebo out of curiosity. She doubts anything will be there, since she didn't choose any of the gods, none of them quite closely enough aligned with her own. At first glance, Rosethorn doesn't notice it. Then she gasps, a hand going to her mouth. "Lark." She drops to her knees and picks the shawl up hesitantly, letting it unfold as she does. The socks lay unnoticed as she wraps it around herself, feeling warmth and comfort sink into her as she does. It isn't just sentiment. Lark knitted spells into the shawl, healing, strength, and warmth radiating from it and into its wearer. A shawl knitted by her lover shouldn't come as such a surprise, given Tris's present, but it does.
She's never missed home quite so much, but having something of Lark's means the world to her. Whenever she finally does notice the socks, Rosethorn smiles. Lark would approve of this part of the gift too. It seems fitting.
Later in the day, she helps clean up from the festival with her usual brisk efficiency. She can be found anywhere in the Bastion she notices a job that needs doing. Anyone familiar with Rosethorn's usual dark green temple robes may notice the opal shawl. It's unusual to see her attire change much at all except in concession to weather. Even if her temple and her world are gone, the very earth in which her plants grew, Rosethorn is still an Earth dedicate, and she dresses as one.
As soon as she feels like she's done enough cleaning, Rosethorn steals away. She spends the rest of the day hiding, so to speak, on the farm. She checks on the Navit plants and does some weeding, shawl carefully folded and set out of range of dirt. Hiding is of course not a very accurate description. Where else would anyone look for a plant mage?
She won't leave the plants until clouds shift to block the sun, marking the end of the day.

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"Hello."
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Saix receives no such dubious honor. Rosethorn looks up, hands still buried in the dirt, her own greeting as short as his. "Hello." She does follow it up with a nod, polite enough.
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"Where have you already been?" He may not be a gardener, really, but he still did his fair share of weeding back in the Garden. There was his own family's garden, for one thing, and it was also simply a good way to make money when you were a young teenager.
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However, it's hungry work. By early afternoon, he was positively famished, and he needed some fruit. When he arrived at the farm, he spotted Rosethorn at work, and he smiled. "Rosethorn," he said in greeting. "How're the plants faring today? They enjoy the atmosphere of the festival?"
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Getting up from where she's been kneeling, she returns to the Navit plants. They all visibly lean in toward Rosethorn as she approaches, the way plants would turn toward the sun, just pressed into a shorter span of time. She sets a hand on the nearest vine and feels the contentment radiating from it. "They're happy. Are you here for fruit?"
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He wasn't the least bit tired, or annoyed. All he was... was hungry. "I'm also planning to head out onto the skyway a little later, so I'll need some energy to spare," he added.
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"The skyway? What for?" It isn't accusatory, she's just curious what Colin is after at the moment.
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"I grew up in a city where plants were everywhere. It was called Radiant Garden for a reason, really. I used to help take care of individual gardens for money when I was younger."
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"Sorry about that," he told her when he finished. "My calorie needs are huge when I've been working, and this is only the second or third time in my time here where I haven't been sedate. Anyway, the skyway. I'm heading out for more salvage, since I haven't been doing as much during the festival as I would otherwise."
He offered her a grin. "I need more shards so I can get a shortcut to Caeldonian reading," he said. "And my workshop always needs more materials. I'm debating whether I want to head to the wharf or the scrapyard. With some of the new arrivals, we're going to have some needs for a couple of things that I can't find in a mountain of scrap."
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But there are those that just haven't quite gotten in to the swing of physical labor of any sort.
Of course if anyone actually knew Frederic's background, it would certainly make more sense to them.
That's not to say he didn't help - he did, but now he's regretting it, especially after so much partying, drinking and over indulgence in food beforehand.
He passes by the farm while somewhat absently looking for some one specific, but every motion in his body indicates a soreness he's none too pleased with. Groaning, rubbing of shoulders with hands, a slight stumble to his step. His usual heavy jacket has been left behind somewhere, with only his slightly dirty slacks and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up remaining.
Pausing, he watches the woman in the farm with the plants for a moment before speaking up.
"Pardon, but you haven't by any chance seen Viola around, have you? She works with the goats in the ranch normally but I can't seem to find her."
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The question earns a bit of a nervous, awkward laugh from the normally composed man. He rubbed at his shoulder again, letting out a sigh following the noise.
"I'm not used to physical labor at all. Even cleaning up has left me rather sore and slow moving."
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"Is there anyone who could teach it?" Rosethorn would rather spend the time than spend her shards. She has plans for those. "What things do we need? I admit I haven't done the best job at keeping track of new arrivals." No one puts Rosethorn on a welcoming committee.
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He grins and polishes one of the navits on his sleeve, thinking on his answer. "I need stuff to build a stable for some of the chocobo and the horse from the festival, I need some materials for a good heat sink for AZ's flaming turtle, nails and screws and other basic construction implements are always going to be in short supply until I can get my automated construction line up and running. That's going to take a while, still... Suffice it to say? I need everything I can get my hands on."
Yeah, he may be a little greedy...
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Rosethorn can't quite keep the surprise off her face when she asks, "Flaming turtle?" The amount of projects Colin juggles is impressive, but Rosethorn has always approved of productivity. Many of them are for other people rather than himself, so she's not about to criticize.
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Rosethorn generally thinks everyone ought to be accustomed to work, but when people aren't, it's common sense to ease into things. "There were enough people about. You can work your way up to the exertion, a little at a time rather than all at once."
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"What kinds of plants grew there? What was the climate like?" Some worlds have plants she's never seen before, with the Navit as case in point. Rosethorn is interested in plenty of things other than plants, but anything growing is the surest way to catch her attention.
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He pauses for a moment, and he looks at his amulet. "Remind me, one of these nights, to start taking the knowledge I've got in my brain and write a program with it," he tells her. "And yeah, Torkoal. He seems to be a rock-based animal with a very complex internal combustion system... He's very friendly."
He smiles, and looks off in the direction of where AZ had been camping.
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A grunt as he pulls out another weed. "I know we had a lot of flowers- more than I can possibly remember. Hundreds of different types. Almost everyone I knew preferred to have smaller herb gardens. They were always useful."
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"If it wouldn't be too much trouble for you, any assistance would be welcome. I'm certain I will grow accustomed to labor eventually... today is not that day, though."