TheIronLotus
SWRP Writer
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- Dec 24, 2010
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Barely any light dripped through the crevices in the forest canopy. Truthfully, it wasn’t a forest canopy – it was Arcane’s garden. But with the ridiculous amount of forestry and plant life he’d packed into the small space, it might as well have been a rainforest. Dew clung to the underside of leaves and stems, and underfoot there was perfect dirt – not fine like sand or some sort of overstated gravel, but a mulch-like black compound that coated the entire garden floor.
Arcane hummed as he watered a set of black lilies and orchids, planted randomly beside a hydenock tree. He felt the Force flow out of his fingers as if a liquid, dripping into the pitcher and flowing through the water as he emptied it. The plants grew before his eyes – though it was winter, the flowers were ready to blossom, and the trees were abounding with leaves.
With an awkward thump, he let himself fall onto the dirt floor. He settled into a cross-legged stance and leaned forwards, staring at the black orchids. They slowly began to flower, the black petals unfolding in an elegant, silent way. A fine wet mist hung over the black flower. The small bud inside of it stared back at him. He continued to will it to grow, green eyes unblinking and narrowed behind the grey, tattered mask he wore so proudly. The flowers were in full bloom, and suddenly…they were withering, they were shriveling as if burnt by an invisible fire. The stems wilted and what used to be a set of perfect flowers lay at his feet, resembling nothing more than charred, badly cooked meat…the remnants of a dead blossom.
The man sighed and continued to sit there; fiddling idly with the remains of the flower like a child would with a pile of twigs. The presence behind him, just outside of the garden, did not go unnoticed, but he preferred to ignore it for several seconds.
Welcome, neophyte, he thought eventually, using telepathy to communicate with his student - the only type of communication allowed within the enclave's walls. He stayed in the sitting position, almost nonchalant. Well, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to join me in marveling at my work? Oh – and please, do mind the shrubberies.
((Anyone who gets the title reference shall recieve a cookie. ^^))
Arcane hummed as he watered a set of black lilies and orchids, planted randomly beside a hydenock tree. He felt the Force flow out of his fingers as if a liquid, dripping into the pitcher and flowing through the water as he emptied it. The plants grew before his eyes – though it was winter, the flowers were ready to blossom, and the trees were abounding with leaves.
With an awkward thump, he let himself fall onto the dirt floor. He settled into a cross-legged stance and leaned forwards, staring at the black orchids. They slowly began to flower, the black petals unfolding in an elegant, silent way. A fine wet mist hung over the black flower. The small bud inside of it stared back at him. He continued to will it to grow, green eyes unblinking and narrowed behind the grey, tattered mask he wore so proudly. The flowers were in full bloom, and suddenly…they were withering, they were shriveling as if burnt by an invisible fire. The stems wilted and what used to be a set of perfect flowers lay at his feet, resembling nothing more than charred, badly cooked meat…the remnants of a dead blossom.
The man sighed and continued to sit there; fiddling idly with the remains of the flower like a child would with a pile of twigs. The presence behind him, just outside of the garden, did not go unnoticed, but he preferred to ignore it for several seconds.
Welcome, neophyte, he thought eventually, using telepathy to communicate with his student - the only type of communication allowed within the enclave's walls. He stayed in the sitting position, almost nonchalant. Well, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to join me in marveling at my work? Oh – and please, do mind the shrubberies.
((Anyone who gets the title reference shall recieve a cookie. ^^))
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