@sunderedoldfriends || LIKED for a STARTER for Hermes from Achaeus
Beauteous as always, the beginning of one botanists day consisted of a cup of hot, herbal tea and the view of the sunrise over the isles of Elpis; the smearing of blues turning to pinks over the horizon a sight one never grew tired of. In the growing light, the life that encompassed appeared all the more ephemeral - the softened sway of plant life a comfort within the cool of the morning breeze.
These delicate hours of the morning are his favorite - where he finds himself only in the company of the plants and the silence of the dawn. Even the slow pacing of cautious boots cause no disturbance to the stillness, the reaching of a hand delicate as it touched the petals of an opening flower.
In truth, he had not thought they would bloom; they seemed so very ill-suited to the soil type they'd been forced within, but with some gentle persuasion and much patience, Achaeus had gently guided them to flower - - to begin to thrive in the new environment and thus confirmed its creators intention; a plant that easily adjusted to circumstance. Fascinating.
"It's beautiful-" He whispers, setting his tea aside 'pon a loose rock so that he could seat himself near the flowerbed - among the longer grass - and look upon them with no small amount of awe and pride. A silent achievement he would receive no recognition for; creators were incredible, but surely those that cared for what was planted mattered, too-? Perhaps in a world far more ideal than their own.
Attentions turn, unfortunately, towards the need of filing paperwork on the plant's upkeep, it's changes, its new preferences... but as of yet Achaeus made no move to begin. No, he would yet enjoy the beauty of the sunrise before the majority of those within Elpis arose. Those quiet hours; how he adored them.
Eventually, he relents his comfortable position in the meadow and stands, heading slowly towards the plaza where most domiciles lead. The sooner he collected and filled in the required paperwork, the sooner he could continue his rounds of weeding, pruning and watering - - as he enjoyed.
Poising to lean upon a wall, pen in hand, Achaeus begins his sentences, mind wandering entirely elsewhere. 'T is not until he casually glances up at the brightening sky that he takes note of a figure stood not too far from his own position - - and he finds that he can only bring himself to offer a small smile in turn.
