Sangamon Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toxicspiderman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2009-04-09 05:01 pm
toxicspiderman) wrote in damned_institute2009-04-09 05:01 pm
Entry tags:
- adelheid,
- aidou,
- blitzwing,
- blue beetle,
- claude,
- daniel jackson,
- depth charge,
- edgeworth,
- edward elric,
- frey,
- guy,
- homura,
- junpei,
- keman,
- kenren,
- kio,
- leon magnus,
- lockdown,
- nataku,
- nigredo,
- okita,
- ren,
- ronixis,
- s.t.,
- sam winchester,
- sanzo,
- scar (tlk),
- schuldig,
- scourge,
- snake,
- sora,
- teisel,
- the doctor,
- the flash,
- the scarecrow,
- wesker,
- willy wonka,
- xigbar,
- yohji,
- zex
Day 40: Greenhouse [Fourth Shift]
Most days, fish and chips (and a cold beer or three) was pretty goddamned high on S.T.'s list of perfect expense-account lunches. Today, the idea of picking at greasy hunks of unidentified bottom-feeder odds-and-ends (politely known as scrod, to the delight of teenagers all across the Northeast) didn't appeal.
He begged off and collapsed into his bed, after using his damp shirt as an excuse to surreptiously check the contents of his closet. Bingo. His nurse watched his little show, unimpressed but (more importantly) unsuspicious. Not that his hairy chest was much of a catch today, pale and sweating from fever. At least she didn't tuck him in.
The intercom woke up up right on schedule, and pulling the sheets back over his head almost won. But a handful of unanswered missives and a vague sense of duty dragged him out to the bulletin, and from there it was easier to stagger over to the greenhouse.
It was warm inside -- a deep, humid warmth that actually penetrated to the aches in more joints and muscles than he could remember the names of. Like a sauna, without the hassle of finding someplace to look that wasn't a mound of pasty middle-management cellulite. Or a sweat lodge, without the opposite hassle of being conscious that he was the only white guy in the room. In fact, besides the nurses in holding patterns, he was the only person in the room.
He located a tray of tomato seedlings going rootbound in their tiny six-packs, and a potting bench whose location was a quick-and-dirty approximation of equidistantly far from anything blooming. He assured his nurse he knew what he was doing, and after a couple of successful repottings, gently sliding the little seedlings out and loosening the tangled roots, she seemed to agree and backed off. It was, by far, the most fucking theraputic thing he'd found in this hellhole so far, and he let himself sink into the rhythm of the task.
[Free!]
He begged off and collapsed into his bed, after using his damp shirt as an excuse to surreptiously check the contents of his closet. Bingo. His nurse watched his little show, unimpressed but (more importantly) unsuspicious. Not that his hairy chest was much of a catch today, pale and sweating from fever. At least she didn't tuck him in.
The intercom woke up up right on schedule, and pulling the sheets back over his head almost won. But a handful of unanswered missives and a vague sense of duty dragged him out to the bulletin, and from there it was easier to stagger over to the greenhouse.
It was warm inside -- a deep, humid warmth that actually penetrated to the aches in more joints and muscles than he could remember the names of. Like a sauna, without the hassle of finding someplace to look that wasn't a mound of pasty middle-management cellulite. Or a sweat lodge, without the opposite hassle of being conscious that he was the only white guy in the room. In fact, besides the nurses in holding patterns, he was the only person in the room.
He located a tray of tomato seedlings going rootbound in their tiny six-packs, and a potting bench whose location was a quick-and-dirty approximation of equidistantly far from anything blooming. He assured his nurse he knew what he was doing, and after a couple of successful repottings, gently sliding the little seedlings out and loosening the tangled roots, she seemed to agree and backed off. It was, by far, the most fucking theraputic thing he'd found in this hellhole so far, and he let himself sink into the rhythm of the task.
[Free!]
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"I wonder if I'll become like you, and be able to tell who's coming towards me just by listening," Artemis said with a small laugh. "At least, with those I can hear."
The boy smiled up at Schuldig, dropping the previous topic. It was just a passing thought, after all, and Schuldig had asked him a question. "Relaxing. I think I'm turning into a fairy, sitting in the dirt is making me calmer." He looked at the lily in Schuldig's hand. "I didn't know you liked flowers."
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"I've always liked flowers," he replied, spinning the lily between his fingers a few more times before offering it to Arty. "They're nature's own flashy little sex machines. Not to mention that some of the most interesting people I've ever tormented worked in a flower shop." He grinned. "And they're living things that don't think. Of course I approve."
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He chuckled. Ah well.
"I suppose those are good reasons. I'll admit I haven't seen the appeal to them yet, but I haven't had as many experiences with them as you have, I suppose.
"Do you have a favorite one?" Artemis asked. "Or do you just like them in general?"
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Arty hadn't taken the flower from him, so he turned it slightly so that its face was towards the boy. "Anyway, why wouldn't someone like flowers? They're one of the most versatile forms of life on the planet. They can grow on the ground, in trees, up trees, on top of mountains, underwater...you can eat them, make medicine out of them, extract poisons from them. When you give someone flowers, just the type can change whether it's a gesture of love, of sympathy, of insult, of mourning - because every flower has a different meaning associated with it. Without a brain, flowers know the position of the sun, whether or not it's raining, when to close and when to open, and have developed more complex defense and mating mechanisms than you could count. And they come in thousands of species, millions of colors, shapes and varieties you can't even imagine."
Since Arty didn't seem like he planned on taking the lily, Schuldig leaned back slightly and tucked it behind the boy's ear. "I tend to prefer the poisonous types, since they're the only ones with any practical use to me at all...not that I've ever used them, but they're the only flowers I'd ever be at all likely to. Purely on the basis of looks, though...I've always liked lilies. Particularly dual-colored ones or red ones."
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"Yes, however, traditionally lilies represent purity or virginity. Is that why you're sticking one so close to my eye level? To attract anyone who may want to de-flower me?" Ouch, bad puns everywhere. He wouldn't be surprised if he got a shove for that one.
"I suppose in many aspects, they are far more advanced than humans are," he said, relaxing back against the wall. "And yet rather similar. They come in many different shapes, sizes, genii, color, they can be bred to simply look nice, or naturally appear attractive and yet be deadly." Much like himself and Schuldig and Haku, he decided. Perhaps he should look into a bed of lethal plants when he got home.
"So, if I sent you a rose bush, you'd stare at it until I told you to take it out of the bag and plant it?" he asked with a grin.
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Well, Artemis' bad joke certainly earned him an eye roll, although physical retaliation wasn't forthcoming...yet. "If I wanted someone to deflower you, Arty," he said levelly, "which I do, since you give me enough to worry about without the virgin-eaters, do you actually think I'd be that subtle about it? I'd stick an entire bouquet down the front of your pants if I thought it would help." He began to chuckle. "Or maybe just for fun." He reached up to idly touch one of the lily's petals. "Sometimes a flower is just a flower. And I liked the look of this one."
Leaning back, he raised an eyebrow at the boy. "A rose bush? I'd probably be wondering whether you had a crush on me. But what would I do with one?"
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"Please don't put a bouquet down my pants," Artemis pleaded in a very thin tone. "I don't think it would have the intended effect, unless you want people to point and laugh at me as I run to get dry underwear." Plant material down there was just not a good idea, he surmised.
He looked up at Schuldig. "I apologize for making you worry. But I appreciate the thought--concerning both that and the flower," he smiled. "Sometimes the smaller gifts mean the most." Such as a small disk worn on a leather cord around one's neck. Simple and inexpensive, yet it meant everything to him. "Not that I don't enjoy the CD player--Haku likes it too. I'm hoping to use it again at dinner tonight, since we didn't have a chance last night. Though I wonder, if you liked the look of the flower, why give it to me? It might go better with your hair," Artemis said with a small smirk.
"A rose bush?" Artemis laughed. "Normally, one plants them in his or her front or back yard. Water and plant food are usually required as well. And then they produce gorgeous blooms." The boy thought back to the Fowl family rose garden with great fondness. In spring, it was fragrant and warm, and he'd all too often fallen asleep while reading in one of the decorative enclaves.
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Besides, a lot of that crazy was other people.
He had to hold up a hand to stop the boy at his next remark though. "Wait a minute, Arty. A lily traditionally represents purity and virginity...and you think it would look good on me. Do you even listen to yourself, or is that entirely my job now?"
He allowed himself to be distracted from their banter, however, by the memory of the rose garden in Artemis' mind. Dozing in the warm sun, among the fragrance of flowers with nothing louder than bees buzzing to intrude, was more peace than Schuldig himself could even fathom - more than he even usually encountered in other people's heads. "Well, I don't have a home," he said aloud, closing his eyes and drinking in as much vicarious sensation as he could. "So no back yard, or front yard...not even a windowsill planter. A rose bush would be wasted on me."
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The boy tilted his head a little, wondering of Schuldig needed to rest. "Ah, well, then I suppose I'd have to buy you a place to put it in as well," he said, already starting to think about locations. "Roses need quite a bit of ground, so a windowsill wouldn't do at all."
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"...alright," Artemis said, knowing that if he tried to pass it off as a joke, Schuldig would just call him on the lie. He sat there, not exactly sure where to go next. Suddenly, he felt silly sitting there with a flower behind his ear. Things were more serious than just flowers and estates in Germany.
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...Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. He'd seen lives like that quite often, from the outside - usually right before he ruined those lives out of spite. He simply couldn't imagine such a life for himself.
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And so, for what seemed to be the first time in his life, Artemis Fowl dropped the subject.
"I believe I'm closing in on the side effects of the experiment," Artemis said after a long (and unintentional) pause. The boy sighed and looked up at the sky. "Any ideas on how to keep me as calm as possible?"
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Hopefully that clarification hadn't reopened the subject, however. It was more than he wanted to get into, with Arty or anyone else.
In regards for what could keep the boy relaxed in the face of what had been done to him, and what side effects it might have... "Drugs," he offered, opening one eye to glance sidelong at him. "Lots of them. Beyond that, I suppose Haku and Badou and I are, sadly, your best alternatives."
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The boy scowled. "I'm not going to drug myself into a coma. I think everyone involved with me would be a little upset by that--including you. If I calculated wrong, I might not wake up.
"And there's no 'sadly' to it. Haku can keep me calm--and so can you. On occasion. When you're in a good mood. And Badou..." Badou couldn't keep himself together without a lighter and cigarettes, so perhaps that wasn't a good example. "Badou treats me like Renji did. Like his... nephew, or something," he smiled.
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Of course, now his curiosity was piqued. "Do I even want to know what familial comparison you'd draw with me?"
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"But all the younger relatives like you nonetheless--because the adults tell us to 'stay away from Uncle Schu--he's a bad influence'. So of course, we all flock to you and Uncle Badou."
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