a thing bc ║ ♦ ║ @pcisxn
She’s on her hands and knees ----not an unusual position for her to be in, not at all. But this is the first time she’s been in this position alone, and honestly, it’s a lot less fun this way. But determination is a strong motivator. And so is love.
Heels have been discarded, for fear of getting them filthy, which really didn’t work, because now she’s filthy, and Harley isn’t sure which is worse. (Good excuse for a bath, she supposes. if she can convince someone to join her.) There’s dirt under her nails, and she doesn’t want to think about the bug she found crawling on her arm. How is this fun? It’s not, but the outcome isn’t for her, so maybe it’s not about fun.
A glance around, hoping shit is in the right place. She’s tried to google it, but who knew placement was such a huge topic. The blonde had eventually thrown her phone across the room, before deciding she would do it her own way, rules be damned. A hand comes up to brush her face, dirt streaking across her forehead, and it’s not nearly as exciting as being covered in blood. Blood smells better.
Delicate isn’t a word anyone would use to describe the blonde, and yes her method is a little crude. A few of the plants are lopsided, but they’re in the ground, so what do they care? It’s not like they have eyes or can tell. However, she’d being careful ---and not a single leaf has been knocked from a plant in her reconstruction of the garden.
