Pollen blinked, for a moment. Other ambers? "My sisters aren't diggers," she spouted, thinking of Niamh's thin body. But, she quickly moved past that, planting her paws on her knees. She wanted to find the others, then, eventually, and she offered a small little "okay!" She'd shifted in place, and nodded her head at the offer.

When Aethril moved, Pollen trailed behind her, wobbling on her back feet for a few steps before dropping down to all fours. That seemed more stable, if she wasn't holding anything, and she hummed gently as she trundled after the Hand.

Little paws reached up to take the items offered, and she held the watering can very gently. She'd turned it this way and that, studying it, bringing its 'face' up to hers and staring into the round eyes. "It's really pretty! Where do I fill it?" she squeaked, placing it with the other items.

Shears, trowel, got it. "How do you know when a plant is diseased? How do they get diseased? ... Do they get sick like we do?" Did plants... cough? Pollen blinked hard, again, sitting back down to look at all the tools in closer detail. "What if an important part is diseased? Can you cure it?"

That was a lot of questions that she rambled out, but her mind went on unfiltered, round, yellow eyes staring up to Aethril. She knew so many things... But, were these questions for other gardeners, and not her? Pollen ruffled in place and frowned ever so slightly for just a second, before smiling once more, expectant for an answer.

@Aethril

A whole litter of failed Ambers? Aethril's brows furrowed but she didn't voice her concerns; instead she'd have to ask Isra later who was operating around Cepheus to make Ambers, or if it were some rogue Overseer trying to cause chaos throughout the caves.

Funny, but a waste of time and resources, Aethril thought.

"A river," she said. "Or a well. The water has to be clean or the plants will get sick, too." She reached outwards to a pretty fern overhanging-- out of place, it wouldn't be missed --but hesitated with her fingers curling underneath the leaf.

It'd been a long time since she'd tried anything with her magic, even before she fell asleep. She'd been trapped in the Palace so long only occasionally sparring with Isra-- could she do it? "It changes colour," she said, stubbornly tucking her doubts away. "Like this."

Like a whisper, she could only just feel His magic at her fingertips, and as her fingers folded inwards to her palm she felt the warm rush. A sigh left her lips and violet-black oil crept up the very stem of the fern, hungrily and greedily consuming the greenery in its path.

The corrupted fern sat out of place among the others, slick and sickening. Aethril's fist turned and the plant writhed with it; almost painfully twisting here and there to stop the oil from dripping onto the garden floor. "They'll turn dark-- they won't necessarily drip like this, but when you see them," she said, spare hand going for the shears.

With a fluid movement, the fern was removed, and Aethril lost control of it. She yanked the fern out before it could hit the floor and kept it in her hands to dispose of later, fingers tacky with the oil.

"If the whole plant is sick," she said, "it's better to remove it before it spreads to the others, even if it's important. Plants can be replaced; there's no need to fret over one when it endangers everything else around it."

@Pollen

Pollen nodded in understanding, looking to the watering can. Well, she came through a river, and it looked clean? She hummed a single note, nodding again as she watched Aethril reach out. Changes color- and it grew dark, and Pollen blinked.

Disease... was it experienced the same way that people would feel it? Was this actual disease? Pollen's ears flicked forward, watching the fern curl. It felt... Strange. Hungry. Like something curling back to her mind, and she grimaced, teeth bared at the color.

Was it a mistake to establish a link to this plant? Maybe- but she wanted to know. As its capillaries twisted in ways it should not, she bared her teeth further, drawing into herself and refusing to put on a nasty face. It was hurting- but, but it was worth it, and it was a lesson.

There was relief when the plant was cut, and the connection slowly severed. A small, quiet sigh escaped Pollen before she realized, pulling back just slightly at her noise. If that's what disease felt like, then it would be a service to free them from those discolored pieces. One paw came up to touch, but- no, she didn't want to get sick either, and she pulled it back, watching Aethril's hand.

After a moment, Pollen nodded again, a little more apprehensively. "What if a person gets sick, that bad?" She pointed up to Aethril's hand, her eyes locked on the Oil that was living just moments ago. She hoped she never got that sick...

@Aethril

Aethril watched Pollen through half-lidded eyes as she grimaced and squirmed with the plant, partially confused and partially curious. What was she... doing? Was she, somehow, connected to the plants? Her brow furrowed.

"It depends," Aethril responded as she nudged the shears closer to Pollen. "Sometimes, people get a little bit sick. They just sleep it off. Other times, it consumes them and they die." There was no horror or upset in her tone-- mere fact. Getting sick was a part of life. Dying was a part of life.

In the meantime she was reaching out to another misplaced plant. "Most times, people get better. It's not much to worry about, and as for plants--" there was that familiar feeling, vaguely nostalgic. His magic came to her easier this time, oil sprang from the very roots and ate the plant whole, turning it into a shuddering, blackened husk. "--they don't feel anything, so it's alright to cut off pieces of them and repot them and things like that."

She leaned back, inspecting her work for a moment with her mouth curling upwards. "Try cutting this one yourself."

@Pollen

Aethril's glance didn't go unnoticed, but Pollen shoved it deep within her mind, forcing herself to pay attention to the lesson. "Oh," was the most she said towards it, not much emotion coming though- maybe a hint of sadness, but that was life, wasn't it? She huffed out, scooting in a little closer as the disease spread once more. Was Aethril doing this?

... Why was she hurting plants, just for a lesson? Gentle eyes looked up to her, nothing but innocence in her eyes, not particularly connecting the idea that they were just... Plants. When she said to try, though, Pollen scooted in more, her throat locking. She swallowed, a little. A gardener had to do what a gardener had to do, so she'd have to do this again, right?

She fumbled for the clippers and reached forward, trying to will the plant away from the iron so she could worm it in. Instead, Oil only dashed on it as she wiggled down to the base of the plant, using both hands to cut the leaves away from the wasted roots. They fell to the grass and dissolved, curling in death, creating a small puddle of Oil in their wake.

She shuddered, just slightly, at seeing it die. She didn't like that, she decided. If there was a way to save them, she'd try- but... She'd have to get used to this, she'd realized solemnly.

Shutting her eyes, Pollen re-centered herself before smiling up to Aethril. "What do I do once they melt?" While it was weaker than the grins she was offering before, she was still happy, happy to be learning her job and happy to do what Aethril was asking.

Perhaps, though, it was a small lesson in maturity, too.

@Aethril

Aethril quickly found herself exhausted, but she kept her attention on Pollen. She extended a slick hand for the oily plant in an absent-minded movement, considering her response.

"Not everything will melt or drip when it's diseased," the Hand said. "That's just my magic-- but let the cleaners handle it. Everyone has their jobs, here."

She was shoving the trowel over, now, with a tired sigh. She glanced to the flowerbeds and, for a moment, shut her eyes. She reached out; just once more, and grasped at magic. It wasn't the familiar feeling of corruption but something else, something that felt like she'd just splashed herself with water.

A little more refreshed, Aethril took a breath. "Now," she began. "We'll remove the rest of the plant. The stem, here," she gestured, "is connected to roots in the ground. Use the trowel to dig it out."

@Pollen

It took a long moment for Pollen to consider this. "The deer?" she squeaked, thinking. That sounded right. They ate a lot, from what she saw when she entered- did they lick up the dead Oil, too? Wow. Very efficient.

Pollen took the trowel when it was offered, watching Aethril. "Are you okay, Miss Aethril?" she asked very quietly, as though she was the reason she was so tired. Did it hurt her, too, to disease the plants? Pollen frowned, hesitantly reaching for Aethril's thigh to give an encouraging touch. It would be brief, anyways, and only before Aethril continued her instructions.

Pollen gripped the trowel in both hands as she gestured, watching. "Okay." Pollen nodded, walking forwards on her knees before leaning in, using one hand to prop herself on the dirt.

Her tongue poked out, but she soon pried out the corrupted piece of plant, using her other paw to shove away dirt like a dog would. It was all revealed, and Pollen pulled it up, loose clumps of dirt falling from the dying roots. "Should we leave this for the cleaners too?" she wagered, offering to drop it right over the Oil puddle with a questioning look towards Aethril.

@Aethril

"No, no, the deer are gardeners," she said. "There are Lessers around the Palace made specifically for cleaning-- it's all they do. They roam the halls and eat up all the dirt." Presumably, they'd eat oil, too. What could possibly go wrong?

Pollen's touch caught her attention before she even processed her words; passing a glance to the Amber before extending a hand to ruffle the tufts of mane on top of her head with a clean hand. "I'm fine," she assured with a little smile. "I just need to rest for a little while."

She watched Pollen dig out the remains of the plant and the roots, offering a little nod. "The cleaners will eat it," Aethril said-- and, again, it would probably be fine. "It looks like you have the hang of it."

The Hand was pushing up, oily ferns still in one hand. "Do you have any more questions?"

@Pollen

"Oh, okay." She stuffed away that knowledge for later, considering it. So, she was a gardener with the deer, too? Pollen nodded to herself.

Aethril was going to be okay, and Pollen giggled at the tussling, grinning a little bit. She liked that. It felt good, and she hoped Aethril would do it again, even! But, she continued on- maybe she'd get more, if she did better!

The roots were dropped in the Oil and Pollen wiped the rest off on the fur of her thighs, shaking out her hands. "Do I get to live in there if I'm a gardener?" she'd instantly asked, pointing back up towards the Palace.

@Aethril

Aethril looked between Pollen, the Palace, and Pollen again. The Palace was open to prisoners and there were barriers up so that she wouldn't go where she wasn't supposed to-- it seemed fine enough to her. "Sure," she said, idly shaking out her skirt with one hand.

"There's plenty of couches and pillows around, just pick where you want to sleep. Eggbert will tend to you if you need anything, too-- and if you're hungry, Nedies is usually cooking." She wasn't a fan of Nedies, but available food was very much a convenience.

She half-turned to start walking back inside, expecting Pollen to follow. "I'll show you around-- ahh, you should speak to Isra sometime, too," she peered back. "She's very nice. Come on."

@Pollen

exit