It's Just a Hand in the Bush
Posted: Fri Jun 22, 2018 6:43 am
On the 17th trial of Ymiden during the 718th arc...
"What about this one?" Doran gently played with a wide, dark leaf attached to an impressively bushy plant that stood about as tall as he did. It rustled as a humid breeze drifted through the open air of the market, the heat wet and heavy and cloying.
Ziemko's head poked out from behind a shifting wall of greens and yellows, his piercing gaze critically set upon the shrubbery. After several trills, he shook his head and returned to his own investigations, disappearing into the potted jungle with a murmurous retreat. They'd been wandering the maze-like collection of potted plants for the past break, searching for the most ideal specimens to help to secure their house. Though it was one of the more secluded residences - they had only one neighbor and were surrounded by taller walls on the house's east and south well - it had several windows that were large enough for a man to jump through.
The idea had been to place the plants in front of the windows to obstruct intruders, allowing them to open the drapes - as keeping them closed made them seem a bit suspicious - while still obstructing the view of any prying eyes. What Doran hadn't anticipated was how perplexingly picky his brother was about which plants they should purchase. He'd have been content with whatever seemed tall enough, but to his surprise Ziemko had other plans, immediately vetoing Doran's initial choices and dragging him about the market in search of- Doran wasn't actually certain what it was they were even looking for.
They had yet to make a single purchase, and what little coolness the morning had so miserly handed out prior had since been exchanged for a muggy, oppressive heat that, though Doran only wore a single shirt and linen trousers, drenched his body in a considerable film of sweat. Even the vendor had since grown tired of their continued patronage - a tentative term as they'd not handed over a single nel yet in exchange for anything - and both she and Doran had since retreated beneath the thin, shaded cover of her stall, seated on a worn mat of wooden fibers, sipping cool water from wooden bowls and watching Ziemko's progress - if it could be called such.
"Thought he'd like that one." The woman, a dark haired and darker skinned rugged beauty shook her head with a sigh. Her bushy hair had been tied into three, puffy balls and though it seemed to help with the heat, sweat still visibly beaded at the sides of her face and upon her upper lip. "Is he always so... um. Particular?"
Doran shrugged his shoulders, eyes closed in the hope the ruddy darkness might help to alleviate some of the perceived discomfort of the heat. It didn't. "To be quite frank, usually he just... goes along with whatever I want." He was irritated with weather enough it crept into his voice. "But it would seem this trial is... an unfortunate exception."
The streets were busy, and though they kept to the sides nearest the buildings, no matter where they stopped they were in someone's way. It was similar to Andaris in the feel of so many people crammed together, but, as Doran had come to realise, Ne'haer's "empty" was very similar to Rynmere's "crowed". The sheer volume of people in the streets was enough to raise the temperature by several degrees - combined with the constant press of busy bodies bouncing off of one another along their varied routes and the stifling, near drip of water in the thick, coagulated air, it was very nearly the same as an oven.
Once more Ziemko signaled it was time they move once more, Doran and he struggled down the cobbles, bumped and jostled the entirety of the way. That they didn't drop the absurdly heavy pot of dirt and root and bush was a miracle in and of itself. As it was the final stretch of their exhaustive journey, when they at last rounded the corner to find a mostly deserted side-alley that led up toward the small dead end street whereupon their new home rested, their pace considerably quickened - though it was only the change from a dragging shuffle to a weighted walk.
At last, with a soft grunt of effort, the pot was set next to the other eight with a low thud upon the wooden floor. The heavy drapes were still drawn, keeping what little coolness from the night that was left inside, and Doran found the shift from the cloudy, sweltering atmosphere to the appreciably cooler interior of their home to be almost as relieving as cool bath. He melted to the floor as his brother shut the door behind them, sealing the room into a half darkness illuminated by the light that managed to sneak in through the chinks in the shading armor of the heavy cloth curtains.
It felt nice to lay down. The dull throb of his injured leg's muscles had been well worked throughout the morning and most of the afternoon, and though it there was a pain to it, mostly it was relieving to be able to use his limb in its proper capacity once more. Though the plants had yet to be placed at their proper locations, Doran - who had since shut his eyes to breathe slowly and blindly in the welcome true black of darkness - heard his brother settle onto the floor as well with a grunt and a sigh shortly after. It seemed they had a shared plan to ease into the final phase of their domestic undertaking.
"A bath would do us good, I think." They certainly smelled as thought they'd put in a honest day's work. "You know, I wasn't aware you were such- so fastidious in your preferences for plants." He grinned at Ziemko, who stared back with a flicker of confusion in his eyes, though his face remained resolute and stone-like.
"Should I... not have been?"
"Oh, no. Not at all; I was merely taken by surprise, not that-" He sighed, shaking his head and smile soft. "No, never mind. Thank you for humoring me with all these... shrubs.
His brother nodded. "They were heavy."
Doran could only shift his expression to a more exhausted grin in response. Once Ziemko had found what he'd been looking for: tall, non-flowering, wide leafed, thick stemmed hedge-like bushes that came in bulbous, weighty ceramic pots, it had only been a short matter of time before they'd found the needed nine. They had a pleasant, fresh scent about them, and they did much to make the interior of their house feel more like a home.
It was an odd thought: a home. They'd left Rynemere so quickly - Venora and his childhood house along with it - and, though Doran had every intention to return if it were at all possible in the coming arcs, he found it strange to feel comfortable anywhere else aside from the plain, simple four walls of his own bedroom. He'd grown accustomed to having Ziemko around him, and he'd found he preferred to have the man's company as opposed to not. Though he often acted far more like a personal guard than a true sibling, there was something comforting about knowing that there was someone looking out for his best interests - someone who worried about him when he forgot to.
Ziemko wasn't Lily - and he certainly was not a replacement for her - but Doran was beginning to appreciate Ziemko for what he was.
"If you don't mind, I'll draw the first bath?"
Ziemko nodded in silent reply, lighting one of the standing lamps and settling onto the couch with a book of poetry they'd found in one of the curio shops several trials back. Homey. Though he was well aware the little sanctuary they had found for themselves was one of a transient nature - and that there was far more adversity up ahead for them so long as their names and blood were wanted - he couldn't help but find, at the very least, their current situation to be far more enjoyable than anything they'd yet shared. As he settled into the cool, refreshing water, letting the scent of the soap soak into his skin and wash away the sweat of the day, he let his eyes close and his smile widen.
For the time being, he elected to enjoy what he could; after all, the quiet worries and fears and uncertainties seemed to grow just a little quieter whenever he stopped to take time to notice how much he really did appreciate spending time with his brother. It was, he knew, fleeting - but so were all things mortal realm.
"What about this one?" Doran gently played with a wide, dark leaf attached to an impressively bushy plant that stood about as tall as he did. It rustled as a humid breeze drifted through the open air of the market, the heat wet and heavy and cloying.
Ziemko's head poked out from behind a shifting wall of greens and yellows, his piercing gaze critically set upon the shrubbery. After several trills, he shook his head and returned to his own investigations, disappearing into the potted jungle with a murmurous retreat. They'd been wandering the maze-like collection of potted plants for the past break, searching for the most ideal specimens to help to secure their house. Though it was one of the more secluded residences - they had only one neighbor and were surrounded by taller walls on the house's east and south well - it had several windows that were large enough for a man to jump through.
The idea had been to place the plants in front of the windows to obstruct intruders, allowing them to open the drapes - as keeping them closed made them seem a bit suspicious - while still obstructing the view of any prying eyes. What Doran hadn't anticipated was how perplexingly picky his brother was about which plants they should purchase. He'd have been content with whatever seemed tall enough, but to his surprise Ziemko had other plans, immediately vetoing Doran's initial choices and dragging him about the market in search of- Doran wasn't actually certain what it was they were even looking for.
They had yet to make a single purchase, and what little coolness the morning had so miserly handed out prior had since been exchanged for a muggy, oppressive heat that, though Doran only wore a single shirt and linen trousers, drenched his body in a considerable film of sweat. Even the vendor had since grown tired of their continued patronage - a tentative term as they'd not handed over a single nel yet in exchange for anything - and both she and Doran had since retreated beneath the thin, shaded cover of her stall, seated on a worn mat of wooden fibers, sipping cool water from wooden bowls and watching Ziemko's progress - if it could be called such.
"Thought he'd like that one." The woman, a dark haired and darker skinned rugged beauty shook her head with a sigh. Her bushy hair had been tied into three, puffy balls and though it seemed to help with the heat, sweat still visibly beaded at the sides of her face and upon her upper lip. "Is he always so... um. Particular?"
Doran shrugged his shoulders, eyes closed in the hope the ruddy darkness might help to alleviate some of the perceived discomfort of the heat. It didn't. "To be quite frank, usually he just... goes along with whatever I want." He was irritated with weather enough it crept into his voice. "But it would seem this trial is... an unfortunate exception."
. . .
Getting the plants back to their house proved to be a far more difficult task than finding them in the first place. Ziemko had chosen incredibly heavy specimens - useful deterrents but obstinately difficult to transport. While his leg was in a much better, stronger state than the trials before, it only helped to much when the plants weighed more than the two of them combined. They had taken to hoisting and shuffling for a distance before setting the pot down, resting, and repeating. By the time they had started on the ninth and final plant, both of them were drenched in sweat and their breaks had become more frequent than their steps.The streets were busy, and though they kept to the sides nearest the buildings, no matter where they stopped they were in someone's way. It was similar to Andaris in the feel of so many people crammed together, but, as Doran had come to realise, Ne'haer's "empty" was very similar to Rynmere's "crowed". The sheer volume of people in the streets was enough to raise the temperature by several degrees - combined with the constant press of busy bodies bouncing off of one another along their varied routes and the stifling, near drip of water in the thick, coagulated air, it was very nearly the same as an oven.
Once more Ziemko signaled it was time they move once more, Doran and he struggled down the cobbles, bumped and jostled the entirety of the way. That they didn't drop the absurdly heavy pot of dirt and root and bush was a miracle in and of itself. As it was the final stretch of their exhaustive journey, when they at last rounded the corner to find a mostly deserted side-alley that led up toward the small dead end street whereupon their new home rested, their pace considerably quickened - though it was only the change from a dragging shuffle to a weighted walk.
At last, with a soft grunt of effort, the pot was set next to the other eight with a low thud upon the wooden floor. The heavy drapes were still drawn, keeping what little coolness from the night that was left inside, and Doran found the shift from the cloudy, sweltering atmosphere to the appreciably cooler interior of their home to be almost as relieving as cool bath. He melted to the floor as his brother shut the door behind them, sealing the room into a half darkness illuminated by the light that managed to sneak in through the chinks in the shading armor of the heavy cloth curtains.
It felt nice to lay down. The dull throb of his injured leg's muscles had been well worked throughout the morning and most of the afternoon, and though it there was a pain to it, mostly it was relieving to be able to use his limb in its proper capacity once more. Though the plants had yet to be placed at their proper locations, Doran - who had since shut his eyes to breathe slowly and blindly in the welcome true black of darkness - heard his brother settle onto the floor as well with a grunt and a sigh shortly after. It seemed they had a shared plan to ease into the final phase of their domestic undertaking.
. . .
The plants were arranged in sets of three. One set by the second window in the bedroom, the first already covered by their wardrobe, and the second two by the street windows, their leafs creating a verdant barrier to obstruct both eyes and bodies. Throughout their shuffling arrangements, the pots had been moved and moved again at least three or four times in total for each one - Ziemko again had been very meticulous in their positioning. When it was all finished and the pair stood sweat-drenched but victorious in the center of the room, the sun had begun to set."A bath would do us good, I think." They certainly smelled as thought they'd put in a honest day's work. "You know, I wasn't aware you were such- so fastidious in your preferences for plants." He grinned at Ziemko, who stared back with a flicker of confusion in his eyes, though his face remained resolute and stone-like.
"Should I... not have been?"
"Oh, no. Not at all; I was merely taken by surprise, not that-" He sighed, shaking his head and smile soft. "No, never mind. Thank you for humoring me with all these... shrubs.
His brother nodded. "They were heavy."
Doran could only shift his expression to a more exhausted grin in response. Once Ziemko had found what he'd been looking for: tall, non-flowering, wide leafed, thick stemmed hedge-like bushes that came in bulbous, weighty ceramic pots, it had only been a short matter of time before they'd found the needed nine. They had a pleasant, fresh scent about them, and they did much to make the interior of their house feel more like a home.
It was an odd thought: a home. They'd left Rynemere so quickly - Venora and his childhood house along with it - and, though Doran had every intention to return if it were at all possible in the coming arcs, he found it strange to feel comfortable anywhere else aside from the plain, simple four walls of his own bedroom. He'd grown accustomed to having Ziemko around him, and he'd found he preferred to have the man's company as opposed to not. Though he often acted far more like a personal guard than a true sibling, there was something comforting about knowing that there was someone looking out for his best interests - someone who worried about him when he forgot to.
Ziemko wasn't Lily - and he certainly was not a replacement for her - but Doran was beginning to appreciate Ziemko for what he was.
"If you don't mind, I'll draw the first bath?"
Ziemko nodded in silent reply, lighting one of the standing lamps and settling onto the couch with a book of poetry they'd found in one of the curio shops several trials back. Homey. Though he was well aware the little sanctuary they had found for themselves was one of a transient nature - and that there was far more adversity up ahead for them so long as their names and blood were wanted - he couldn't help but find, at the very least, their current situation to be far more enjoyable than anything they'd yet shared. As he settled into the cool, refreshing water, letting the scent of the soap soak into his skin and wash away the sweat of the day, he let his eyes close and his smile widen.
For the time being, he elected to enjoy what he could; after all, the quiet worries and fears and uncertainties seemed to grow just a little quieter whenever he stopped to take time to notice how much he really did appreciate spending time with his brother. It was, he knew, fleeting - but so were all things mortal realm.