milliways_bar | (no subject)

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At the end of the multiverse, there is a bar. This is not news.

Out in back of this bar, there is, among other things, a greenhouse.

In this greenhouse, there are, again among other things, a quantity of potting soil, several planters and pots, widely assorted seedlings, and one Starfleet ensign with rolled up sleeves.

That last does not belong in a pot; she's organic, but she's not vegetable. She is, however, doing her best to honor her word to the telekinetic purple unicorn she met the other week. This involves kneeling on a free patch of the greenhouse's floor and setting a few things to rights.

The seedling Sariel's currently potting looks like it'll be some variety of pepper plant once it's grown. There's a planter, already full of onions, off to one side, and a smaller pot in that planter's shadow has newly-settled rosemary at its center.

There's more where that came from, or at least there will be. Just give her time.

Come see what the gardening flygirl is up to?

((OOC: Sporadically in and out all day due to RL, but here.))

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There's also a Scottish murderer in the door to the greenhouse, curious as to what's going on in there. He's been paving garden paths and doing other heavy lifting in the restoration of the outside in the last few weeks, but hadn't touched the greenhouse so far.

Now, he wants to know who does.

There. That pepper plant is securely potted. As the pot is shifted carefully to one side, Sariel turns and gets a view of the doorway out the corner of one eye.

"Oh." Murderer? Not that she's aware of. To her, Urquhart is just a vaguely familiar someone. "Excuse me. I didn't know anyone was here."

Cue a Sariel straightening up from kneeling on the path.

"I just dropped by," Urquhart says. "I was curious about the state of the greenhouse."

Sariel's trying to get the worst of the dirt off of one thumb, with limited success. "From what I've been told, and what I've seen, it still needs some work." One hand gestures to the number of empty pots and planters standing nearby. "I'm not entirely certain about structural damage, but I can at least manage this much. I'm apparently not the only person working here, but I have yet to meet anyone else."

Beat. "I'm sorry. I know we've met, but I've forgotten your name."

"I'm Urquhart," he says. "And your name is Sariel, isn't it?"

He remembers women. All sorts of people, but especially women.

Uh-oh? Maybe?

"Yes it is," Sariel confirms. "I'm pleased to meet you, Urquhart. I'd offer a hand, but--" The dirt-smudged fingers of one hand are brushed at with those of the other.

"Oh, that is fine," Urquhart says. "We did talk before, I think. I wouldn't possibly only have admired you from afar."

Cue surprised look. Somebody wasn't expecting that. Somebody's also doing her best to downplay it, just a bit.

"I'm fairly sure literature was involved, then." Not this time, as the seedlings and gardening supplies can attest. Is one of those young plants waving its petals? There's no wind indoors...

"I was still very new, and you read a book with dinosaurs in," Urquhart remembers.

Urquhart remembers books well. Almost as well as women.

Slight pause for thought. Look of recognition. "The Lost World," Sariel answers. "At least, I'm fairly certain that's what it was."

Honk! goes something off to one side in a voice that could've easily been borrowed from a miniature party horn with a knot in. It almost sounded as though the newly-potted daffodils over there did it...? Nah, couldn't have been.

"Something is odd about your plants," Urquhart says, deadpan. "Mine mostly stay still in their pots, and never ever honk. But I guess that's the magic here."

"That plant was waiting for potting when I got here," Sariel answers. "I'd never heard of one that made noises like that before today. I suspect it's from either an Earth other than my own or a planet unknown to me."

The flitterbloom waves cheerily from a short distance to one side of the squeakily honking daffodils. "I'm not certain about this one either. At least these," she indicates a young-looking pepper plant, "I know."

"I think that's a pepper plant," Urquhart says. "We didn't have them in my time, they're from America. Which we Europeans hardly had any contact with yet. Even I thought the Irish and Viking stories about the wonderful land beyond the sea nothing but silly myth, wishful thinking, and hogwash."

At least Urquhart had heard of them, having had contact with Vikings and Irishmen in the port towns of Scotland.

"That is a pepper plant," Sariel confirms. "Though I'm not certain which variety; there was no label attached." Beat. "You must either be from a different Earth than my own, from significantly earlier in time, or both at once. My year is 2370," she adds, "and home is the island of Saint Lucia... which is near Central America."

Another beat. "I would call Saint Lucia a wonderful land, but I have significant bias." The corners of her mouth tilt upward.

"I'm from Scotland, originally," Urquhart says. "But I came in from Cologne, on the river Rhine, from the year 1260."

Demeter healed the land but she knows the greenhouses have others who look after them.

Today though she smiles when she sees someone working and says, "Hello, do you need any help?"

Sariel knows that voice, say true.

She's smiling, small and real, as she turns away from that now newly-potted pepper plant and faces Demeter. "Hello, la--Demeter." At least she caught herself before completely calling her 'lady'. "If you wanted to join me, I wouldn't mind."

"Just tell me how I can help. It's looking better in here,"

She touches each plant and a few of them noticeably perk up.

Oh, now that's something Sariel can't help but react to. Surprise? Awe? A little amazement? Call her expression a mixture of all of the above.

Yes, she knows who this person is. No, that doesn't stop tangible evidence of the fact being any less impressive.

"I know," she says, and some of her reaction is coloring her voice - she's trying not to react too obviously, but you can only tamp down so much - "that I'm not the only person working in here. I have yet to meet anyone else, though."

Her? Tell a goddess how to help? That one's going to take a second or two.

Meanwhile, there are a number of seeds and seedlings standing to one side. A few look foreign to Earth. One plant seems to be waving flower petals independently of wind, and is one of the seed pods making a rattling noise?

"I hope others are working here. So much love has been given to the land here, it'd be a shame if anything didn't flourish again. How are you doing, Sariel?"

Demeter walks through the plants to find the weakest ones and give them strength.

There's a fern - white-streaked green, but that looks natural judging by the patterns in the leaves - standing in a rather battered-looking pot a few feet further along the wall Sariel is nearest. Judging by its apparent age, it's safe to say it's not one of the plants she's been working with. It looks... a bit on the drooping, ragged side. Blame being jostled around during the near end of the world.

"I've been well," Sariel answers. "Even considering everything here. Especially considering everything here." If Demeter's walking among the plants, Sariel's kneeling back down and reaching for the nearest seedling, pot, and suitable soil. "Have you?"

It doesn't call out to Demeter but perhaps ask quietly and she reaches out towards it to help it live,

"I'm glad to know that as the end here was difficult. I was away for most of it as destruction and I do not do well together."

"Destruction and most sentients I've known don't do well together," Sariel says, but it sounds like agreement rather than clarification. "I imagine it's that much worse, for you."

That fern perks up visibly, and can plants look cheerful? This one you could almost swear does, in an understated sort of way.

It's a daffodil seedling fairly newly sprouting from its bulb that Sariel's selected to plant next. She's on the point of transferring it into the pot that's now ready for it when...

Honk! goes--was that the plant? sounding like nothing so much as a miniaturized party horn with the hiccups. Sariel blinks.

"It was hard," When the plant honks, Demeter giggles and pets the flower which honks happily.

"It was..." Sariel's choosing her words carefully, that much is plain. "Horrible and more, for everyone I know who was here." Pause. "If I say nightmarish, I could sound cliche, which I don't intend to do. It truly was."

Honk! goes that daffodil again. If there's a world out there that has honking daffodils--and there is, as certain wizarding types around the bar could likely attest--Sariel doesn't know it.

"No, it sounds accurate, Sariel. The healing is still continuing for there was much pain here."

That there
damn these beasts
was.

Sariel nods, but doesn't add to what Demeter's said. Not verbally, anyway. It's plain enough she agrees. On all counts, if the work in front of her is any indication, which it is.

That daffodil, which does finally get secured in its pot, honks squeakily once more. Somewhere off to the side, a seed pod is... rattling? Do seeds normally do that?

Demeter pets the daffodil once more before moving over to give Sariel a hug before she searches for the rattling seed pod.

Sariel is surprised. This is not surprising. But she's not objecting, unexpected though the hug is. Gently returning it is a touch awkward, mainly because she's still got soil-smudged hands, but she tries.

She's not normally this demonstrative. But this... well. Demeter's earned it.

The rattling seed pod, when Demeter reaches it, is small and black. It's also completely still. How the heck is it rattling if it isn't moving?

Watch out, Demeter. Unbeknownst to Sariel, that pod is a venomous tentacula seed!

The seed pod is given a thoughtful look and Demeter says something to it in Greek, it rattles an answer back before Demeter sighs,

"This isn't a terribly helpful plant. It says when it gets bigger it will eat all of us."

That one's going to take a second or two to process fully. On the one hand, goddess with a distinct plant affinity. On the other... wow. Demeter's actively speaking to a seed pod.

Okay, somebody sprout a third hand. "To eat all of us?" That's concern, to be sure. And with reason beyond the obvious, too.

whatever they offer you, don't feed the plants

Beat. Two. Two and a half, two and three quarters. "Is there... somewhere more secure we could plant it?" No throwing out of seeds for this ensign.

Wariness though? That there is.

"Yes, I think so," She closes her hands around the pod and says something in Greek.

When she opens her hands, the pod is gone, "There, now its in a place that's better for it."

Ooooh continued wariness! Also lingering awe, because that isn't something you see every day.

"Where did you send it? If I can ask...?"

"Back to its own world where it belongs."

If Sariel tried to claim she wasn't relieved on hearing that, she'd be lying. Such is why she won't. Some of that relief doubtless shows in her face. "Better in its own environment than somewhere unfamiliar," she says. "For it, or for anyone else."

Good thing that wasn't a devil's snare seedling, hm? Not that Sariel knows that particular plant either...

"Yes, we all have our places where we fit best,"

Demeter smiles at Sariel, she wouldn't harm a plant.

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