[ Sometimes, he can brush away Viktor's empathy and not think about it, but other times it catches him and he wants to squirm underneath the heat and weight of Viktor's love for the most inconsequential things. He hadn't thought to grieve - they weren't old in the same way the belongings of the ancients were. They were his collection, and he collected so much over time he had accepted there would be necessary casualties of some kind. ]

Focus on the gravel, not on me. [ He drops into a crouch next to Viktor, peering at his hands and then after a beat of hesitation, looking properly. Viktor glows so brightly he thinks he ought to have accepted the offer of a hat, earlier. ]

So long as they are edible, I care not. Gravel to aerate the soil, and then - prepare your seeds and I will return shortly.

[ He does not care to make them attempt to make manure for fertilizing; rather than do that he rips a portal open carelessly and steps back onto the farm from earlier, digging in a barn shed until he comes out with a half-full bag, dropping it upon the ground. ]

Once you've tended the ground, then you may plant. 'Tis not so different from coaxing seed to flower in the Underworld; it may even be easier. The difficulty is not putting too much of your own aether to induce flowering and speed the process to fruiting. The moment you feel a drain on your aether, you will reach out to me and borrow my own. Do you understand?