Lion Head Mesa Hellebore

The palace has a garden. It is the singular vision of a Sesh, and Eset often comes to marvel in it. To stand beneath the shade of fertile green is to be transported from the heat of stern land to a lush oasis. 

She admires the tedious tending, how here in this plot of land beside the palace the world has been bent to one’s will. She runs a paw along the saplings, inhales the jasmine and seeks through the mesh of leaves for the Sesh @Haizel.

He was never far from the garden, but at this particular moment, he had been putting away his hollow cup used for watering the flowers on the inside of the palace. Seven red blooms. A holy number, according to his friend Senmut. 

The giant Sesh, however, wanted to check upon his creation, his vision brought to life through hard work and dedication; and look through it to check that each flower, seed, and tender sapling was taking to its new home. Haizel had done his best to ensure everyone would get along, mapped it out in his head and sown the soil just so. 

Oh? Hi! Do you like it? he wuffed happily to a visitor.

She gives a spin in the colors before eyes find an owner to this greeting. He’s huge, tall as she imagines a boar to stand but with a lean, graceful countenance. The gardener.

“It is divine, you’ve a true gift,” she compliments with floral-spun eyes.

She imagines the drudgery of early days, how each herb must have been found and harvested at the opportune time, grubbed up from the dirt and culled for seeds, day upon patient day. How the loam itself had to be collected from groves off the Mesa. His is a craft perfected and even the wildlife sings in praise of all of this which had to be worked and learned through trial and error and spoke to the man’s tenacity.

“You must be Haizel. I am Eset,” she introduces with a customary bow. “Fellahin to the Queen.”

The giant's tail wagged behind him, smile forever soft and kind. Thank you! The Queen gave me the idea and I had fun growing and collecting and gathering. And I am indeed he, The Sesh Haizel, tutor of the art of flowers to the kingdom of Akashingo. 

It was hard work, many of the flowers had been grown by seed himself in imported soil mixed in red sand. Tended to daily as sproutlings, each one given a name only he could understand. It was his labor of enjoyment, of love, a vision to share with everyone. 

And he was grateful for the opportunity.

“It is a pleasure,” his address is welcoming and she allows her formal stance to loosen lightly. It is the generous bearing of a man who appreciated sharing his work. A greenskeeper did not have to cut paths through his nursery, but this sacred place invited admiration.

“I was hoping to borrow some of your expertise for the upcoming coronation, if you’ve the time to spare, my Sesh. Several arrangements for the Queen’s throne and the banquet hall would complement the grandeur of the space.”

Oh! I've been working on something! Stay right there! and before he could finish his sentence, he ducked under the emerald foliage and darted back toward his chamber, gathering some of the blooms he'd been growing for Kind Queen Toula's coronation. Haizel panting as he brought them back in his cup. It was a rather large cup.

He sat them down next to Eset's paws, scootching them closer with his nose. I've been wanting to practice how they'd look on someone, but I haven't had time.

Her ears flatten, does he mean to decorate her?

“Oh they are quite lovely- but I assure you I am not a thing like our Queen. I fear it would not lend a proper example of your vision,” she makes a polite refutation of it with a distancing cloak of dark tail wrapping around herself, hoping he will understand.

The half-breed was accepting of herself, she did not rue her station here, she knew simply she would not gleam like the Queen’s pale gold nor brightly-lit canvas and would not have the denizens of the court questioning otherwise.

I have enough to spare, always, it was true. He always grew more than one type of flower, in the event that he wanted to gift some to those he met - leading to his chamber being perpetually colored and full of flower-petals.

But if you wish, I can attempt only a part of what I have in mind. It must be perfect for the Queen, right?

“Yes,” she nods with a reluctantly unfurling tail. It was a framing she could not argue with. Their Queen was to look flawless on the day of her crowning, and it was logical for the Sesh to need a rehearsal, just as she needed a sketch before a painting.

The fellahin stills, straightening her posture and shifting a curious look from the man’s face down to the little flowers.