Two Eyes Cenote comedy

right after this thread

fellahin girl tends to flowers outside of the blue palace, a scowl affixed to her face as she struggles with the great palm filled with water.

i've grown too. i've learned and trained a lot! she sneers at just the thought. why is she more worthy than me?
she shakes the palm the last droplets before scouring for the best flowers within the garden and placing them within the stretched out palm.

not sure on his status fully other than 'tending to the house of gucci' but wanted to keep him active and have more fellahin interactions :)

when he was not tending @Gucci dutifully or making sure @Medusa had every need fulfilled, he was...still doing those. just simply in different ways. such as making sure that the fellahin here kept his noble House of Gucci content when he must do other tasks. he could not do everything at once. he must either clean the bedding or arrange the meals.

doing both at once was a lesson he had learned from long ago.

and here is a young fellahin, tending to plants in a manner that warmed him. perhaps there is some useful knowledge to be tapped free from her.

is gardening your task? he reached down to use his narrow muzzle like a weeding tool.

a stranger approaches. thankfully, it wasn't someone who just got out of prison.

uh.. tiye cocks her head foreward after placing a flower down onto her palm mat. no. they're someone else's. but they'll die if we don't water them a lot.

she continues to yank flowers from the bed, a little more careless as she lost focus on her "task." do you need something?

a little hum in the back of his throat. it was not exactly a revelation to him, but he was intrigued. the land here was familiar in some ways but rather different in others.

he needed to learn the ecosystem better. he needed to know what might rise from the red sands — besides godheads and nobles.

not exactly, a half-truth. a weed wretched free. but perhaps you'd be willing to tell me what we're growing here?

her brows twist. but she sighs. we have cacti, cacti with flowers, blue flowers, pink flowers, yellow flowers, orange flowers, wilting flowers.... and more. probably. she twists her head looking at them. 

i'm not an expert but i don't need to be, i just know they need water.. like, everyday for some of these.

her answers leave much to be desired. yet he reminds his ire that this is still just a girl.

he hovered his nose close to a blossoming cacti. aware that it could very well still prick him despite its beauty. he chased worry away from his mind for a moment.

then what do you wish to be an expert in? if not the upkeep of a garden then perhaps the domestic keepings? or perhaps entertainment? at her age he had already known exactly what he was meant to do. now look at him, fellahin to the noble House of Gucci.

charmion did not think he could want for anything more.

violet eyes were oblivious to the man's irritation with her lack of botanical-know-how. she raises a brow at the question, humming as it stirs in her head.
i dunno! but i wanna be the best! and i will. she smirks.

the best knows things. the best is an expert in everything they touch. a grimace. he wedged free a cactus needle from between his toes.

do not wait too long to decide.

it is not cruelty in his voice, but a warning.

i have all the time in the world to learn — hey, teach me then if you know so much. 

finally she recognizes this face — this is the servant to the ball of blubber and fat she had to pamper! ew! isn't that his job?

teach her. teach her?

where is her mother in this teaching? where are the other more womanly fellahin to pass along knowledges? how does charmion manage to find himself here in a place where he is examining flower petals and the safety of them.

it is the blooming cacti that he settles his attention upon.

see how a cactus protects the most beautiful bloom? a paw hovered over one, away from the pointed needles. one who collects these blooms will be known to have both trained eye and patience in collecting them. it shows you are willing to endure in favor of beauty. after all, the flower blooms among its needles.

you might present them to royals, to show them your devotion.

the cacti blooms were always her favorite — vague memories of them being frequent gifts from her mother when they were young.

when things were simpler.

it was with that same, vague memory that leads the girl to practice plucking the flower. mama had made it look so easy, despite having so many needles ready to poke her in the eye and a flurry of rowdy children circling her. tiye sweats as she approaches, each attempt ending in prick to the nose. only on the fifth attempt does she grab it — alongside a needle to the nose.

he watches, he stays. steady and patient. prepared to help remove any needles if she asked but otherwise he has found himself occupied by pale-pink petals.

he cannot grind them as fine as a medic might, but he feels content with this work. a small taste of the pale petals. he thinks he remembers this one. yet he was not content to make such a call.

olive eyes looked back to her, where she now claimed a cactus flower. there is something close to warmth on his face. preserve that one for yourself. that way it may always remind you of your devotion, too.

it's going to die though.
the metaphor is lost on blunt tiye, though she still tucks the flower behind an ear. 

i wouldn't want my devotion to die. she slouches, just a little, and turns to the cactus again where she'd taken the flower from. a bud lays nestled underneath where the flower once covered it.
she'll take care of this one. and hope it blooms again.

dry it, he informed her. as beautiful as it might have been as a wearable thing, fellahin do not collect as much as royals. what things they gained must be tended to for their preciousness. besides, who replaced the riches of a fellahin?

find it a place away from moisture to settle and age — or carefully bury it in hot sands for a few days.

the method was hers to pick from. he only dispensed the knowledge she might need to move forward. a nod from himself. prepared to retire now that he knew the taste upon his tongue.

flattop buckwheat.

drying it felt like a temporary solution. but it'd be so delicate. was only an excuse to not have to go through such an effort; she'd forgotten that all flowers were delicate. not herself, though she had yet to realize she was no flower.

her mumble is to only an empty garden, now.