ArchivedLogs:Dirt and Tree

Dirt and Tree
Dramatis Personae Ash, Jim	2013-05-24 '
Location <NYC> Common Ground Clinic - Clinton
Ash Campbell has been on Jim-Care duty off and on since they picked him up. He, of course, sees to the needs of other people when he can, but he also has been making sure that Jim is okay as his primary concern. He's refreshed his dirt several times in the clinic and made sure to bring in the right types of fertilizer. After a long trip to Home Depot, he returns with five different shrubberies, all hearty and thick and green with new growth. He begins to pile them all around Jim, trying to keep them all within easy reach. He's dirty and sweaty by the time he takes a breath, finally quieting in his less frenetic self, pulling over a chair and staring at Jim as he waits for him to feast. Jim's been a /dour/ form of mutilated-pitted plant company, seeming at times to be entirely aware and judgemental of his surroundings and other times, when his eyes are closed... No breath, no life, no warmth, few people can give the impression of cranky stubbornness while yet being the next step up from an inanimate object. He's been a strange case for the clinic, probably depending on Hive to relay his bland commentary that he is /not/ an emergency, nevermind the spears through his chest or the gratuitous head wound. No blood. Nor organs. For god's sake. (If /spicy/ with colorful curses and swears that Hive likely conveys all too willingly.) He /has/ sat still for the process of wiring closed the split down his face, which may or may not have required a vice clamp to press it together solidly, binding it closed with hemp palm twine normally reserved for training bonsai trees, as well as one knee that's taken a damaging impact, splitting up the fibers. Now, able to walk again, if on a limp, he's wiggling bare gnarly feet down into Ash's so thoughtfully constructed habitat with his eyes partly rolled back in an /animal/(plant?) pleasure. The soil makes small crushed grumbles in recession from the expanding push of his roots, the creak and pop of living wood expanding hungrily under the surface until they reach the shrubberies. It's all but /predatory/ how they erupt from the soil to pounce around the bases of the shrubs, curling around them in murderous vines. The leafy foliage on the shrubs instantly begins to wilt and yellow, making a noise like crumpling dry paper. Jim, at length, raises his eyebrows VERY high, shoulders slumping. And he THUMBS UP at Ash. Ash watches the flora carnage with a light in his eyes and small smile on his lips. He nods to himself and tilts his head left and right to stretch his neck before drawing himself back up to his feet. He laughs at the thumbs up and shakes his head a little. "Well, I hope that was tasty. I can get more, of course. What do you think? Another five? Ten? How much do you need, man?" He moves over to the plant man and sticks his fingers in the dirt at Jim's feet, rubbing it between his fingers and pursing his lips a little more. "I'm going to take these carcasses out later and get it shredded. I'm thinking of starting a compost in the apartment. That way some of these dead guys can be a dirt meal for you later." He straightens up, instead of brushing the dirt off his fingers, he rubs it up his forearms. "You're going to need more organic material in there soon." He just talks, since, well, Jim can't right now. Which is probably for the best. Jim's hard blue eyes are settled somewhere blankly in front of him, then upward, distant and partly distracted, staring along the wall, then down slowly at the dried-dead shrubs. Slow-motion blink. Not seeming to hear Ash's questions. - Then. Snap? His eyes jump back to Ash at the word 'apartment'. His head turns as well, listening more closely. "Nah, it's totally okay. I'll pop out to the store a little later and get some more. Do you think... more bonemeal? I mean, you're leaching up a lot of stuff right now and I'm not sure which ones are working for you and which ones are maybe slowing your growth." Ash looks up at Jim and finds him staring at him. "The compost shouldn't be a good deal, but man, that'll be amazing, right? I was thinking I could attach it to the side of the building where no one else can get it and it wouldn't smell nasty because it wouldn't really be under a window, you know? Not that our neighborhood doesn't smell weird anyway." He sighs and finds his seat again, just taking a load off. "Sorry. I talk when I get nervous and I talk more in front of plants, so you're just kind of getting a raw deal tonight." Jim narrows his eyes like /who's a plant/. The narrowing is a /slow/ process, tectonic. Treebark shifts and scrapes and he extends his good hand (well, better hand) slowly outward like a growing limb towards Ash. Snaps his fingers once. Then points downwards. SIMMER DOWN. Or maybe 'more DIRT'. Or possibly an accusative LESS DIRT. It's all kind of slow-mo cranky now that Ash has gotten his attention. Ash simply shuts up and moves to sit down where Jim points. There. Sitting. Like a good boy. Oh good. /Good/ little mud puppy. Jim has now acquired one Ash in his soil, and it is all the richer for it. With eyes glazed and eyelids blinking only slowly, his head begins to drop back, between two forked shoots of branches unraveling in a lazy spiral from the sides of his shoulders. Ash has been moving all day, so when Jim gets him to sit still, it's a little bit of a battle to stay there, for a moment or two, anyway. Then he's settled, sinking a little further on the dirt, then a little more on his butt. Eventually, he leans back, bracing himself up on his hands and looking up at the large treeperson before him. He draws in a deep breath and lets it out, studying the man. "Hey." That's all. Just a greeting. The rest is silence.