[ It does not quite bother him, being brushed off as such. A faint sting, easily set aside. It is as Emet-Selch had said, there must be a balance. A sun and a moon, light for the dark. One to think ever of the next great and harrowing step, the other to remember that even the smallest things may have been important to someone. If he is silly for it, he is silly.
Without tools, he relies on spellwork to do his planting. Earth is easy enough to move for one practiced in White Magic, a swipe of his hand does the trick. For gravel, he finds the exact thread that changes dirt to rock, pins it in place with care, and then applies the stones to the ground the way he might have applied the same to the face of some fiend years ago - shotgun blasted. That should sufficiently aerate.
A layer of soil over that, then the process is repeated twice more, making layers.
When Emet-Selch returns, Viktor is clutching a handful of seeds between his palms. His body's preference for stillness makes it difficult to stir them from their slumber, and he can't help but wonder whether his own aether will negatively affect the taste, but eventually, he settles on planting. ]
Aye. Aye. No over-d-doing it. I am not a ch-child. [ He frowns as he sets the seeds into the earth, and hasn't quite wiped the look away when he glances back up. ] That farm I glimpsed- on the Source? 'Twas safe? No Terminus creatures?
no subject
[ It does not quite bother him, being brushed off as such. A faint sting, easily set aside. It is as Emet-Selch had said, there must be a balance. A sun and a moon, light for the dark. One to think ever of the next great and harrowing step, the other to remember that even the smallest things may have been important to someone. If he is silly for it, he is silly.
Without tools, he relies on spellwork to do his planting. Earth is easy enough to move for one practiced in White Magic, a swipe of his hand does the trick. For gravel, he finds the exact thread that changes dirt to rock, pins it in place with care, and then applies the stones to the ground the way he might have applied the same to the face of some fiend years ago - shotgun blasted. That should sufficiently aerate.
A layer of soil over that, then the process is repeated twice more, making layers.
When Emet-Selch returns, Viktor is clutching a handful of seeds between his palms. His body's preference for stillness makes it difficult to stir them from their slumber, and he can't help but wonder whether his own aether will negatively affect the taste, but eventually, he settles on planting. ]
Aye. Aye. No over-d-doing it. I am not a ch-child. [ He frowns as he sets the seeds into the earth, and hasn't quite wiped the look away when he glances back up. ] That farm I glimpsed- on the Source? 'Twas safe? No Terminus creatures?