20 Nov 2019, 10:10
Will Toil for Chocolates
Ever since he was small, Pericles had been familiar with the workings of a garden. As a wee babe, he had lain snug as a bug in a quaint little carriage, swaddled and set in the shade while his mother went about her work. All these years later at the age of eleven, the smell of soil or freshly trimmed plants inspired in him a sense of fulfillment. Just as earthy herbal aromas provided him peace, there was something about working with flora that cured a pinch of his homesickness. When he heard of the errand, the young Ravenclaw leapt at the opportunity to delve back into the familiar, arriving bright and early with pruning shears, trowel, and protective gloves at the ready.
As he approached the greenhouse, the student felt his elation on the up-and-up. He had been looking forward to this since the moment he read about the errand. It was hardly a chore, considering the satisfaction he derived from precisely brand of work. "Professor MacTavish...?" Pericles' mild voice rang out from the open doors, between which he chose to linger. "I've come to help with your harvest, sir. If you'd name the plants I'm to pick and dry, I'll see it finished. I promise I've got prior experience- which is to say, it'll be done correctly!" Whilst waiting for an answer, the boy peered about in search of an open basket which he might use to collect the clipped herbs.
As he approached the greenhouse, the student felt his elation on the up-and-up. He had been looking forward to this since the moment he read about the errand. It was hardly a chore, considering the satisfaction he derived from precisely brand of work. "Professor MacTavish...?" Pericles' mild voice rang out from the open doors, between which he chose to linger. "I've come to help with your harvest, sir. If you'd name the plants I'm to pick and dry, I'll see it finished. I promise I've got prior experience- which is to say, it'll be done correctly!" Whilst waiting for an answer, the boy peered about in search of an open basket which he might use to collect the clipped herbs.
Word Count: 243
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
28 Nov 2019, 08:53
Will Toil for Chocolates
Not only did Pericles arrive with the tools of the trade: the over-achieving Ravenclaw was quick to produce a handheld notebook from his bag as well. He would await the professor's instruction, scribbling a swift bullet-point list of herbs intended for harvest, then thanked the professor for the opportunity. Pericles admitted (with no small degree of wistfulness) that he hadn't had a Chocolate Frog since the train-ride onto campus. Belatedly, he would note his gladness for the House Points as well. He was not necessarily sure what precisely the points were good for, but having The Most meant a great deal to his housemates, so he derived some inexplicable contentment in collecting them where he could. Once the list was concluded and gratitude given, he gathered up his things within a wicker basket before taking to the grounds.
Almost immediately, Pericles' attention was drawn to the six other greenhouses beyond this first one. One of the professor's only rules was that each student only attended the greenhouse fit for their year. Yet the boy had been raised among all manner of plants. What could be in the others, he wondered...? What was so dangerous that a second-year could handle, but he himself was unfit to face? To any onlookers, the Ravenclaw lad was simply standing and staring with a glazed gaze. Yet inside, a highly rare, more mischevious voice of insatiable curiosity mulled over the matter. Would it be permissible to just take a peek beyond those glass walls and windows? Pericles shook his head and drew a sharp, somewhat self-reprimanding inhale. No, he hadn't the time for idle curiosities. Now was his chance to earn chocolates.
Cocking the basket between his hand and hip, the first-year student made his way to the designated plants. He arranged his tools like a surgeon: each was wrapped in a small square cloth, and given they were under no time restraint (to his knowledge), Peri was leisurely while unwrapping and inspecting each and every effect. He considered the sharpness of his sheers, the durability of his gloves, how stably his trowel's head was fixed to its handle. While he harvested, the boy idly pinched and plucked and wayward weeds which he came across. These were tossed out into the grass where they would starve and shrivel. While working, Peri soaked in the aromatic changes. Cut plants sighed their scents into the air, turned soil stirred up that pleasant earthiness. The air was crisp, clear with coming winter, carrying with it a chill that slowly seeped through one's robes. So long as he kept active, he supposed, he would be warm enough.
The task was just as psychologically rewarding as Peri had hoped. At times, he simply let his thoughts wander homeward. He imagined how his family's garden must look at this time of year, with many a more delicate plant stowed away within their humid greenhouse. The grounds would be bland, what with the soil turned and roses clipped away, but that glass hall held the most precious plants they owned. His mother would have already prepared basil and sage for a soup he suddenly sorely missed. What would the professor be making with these particular herbs? Pericles pondered over what little potion-making he did understand, considering each plant he harvested and wracking his brain to try and guess what manner of potion (or cooking) it might be used in.
Come the conclusion of the task, the boy used his thumbs to nudge dirt, debri, and residual clippings from each of aforementioned tools. He systematically re-wrapped them all, ensured his haul had no chance of spilling from the basket, and once all was stowed back in his bag he clapped the soil from his dragonhide gloves. Asides from points and chocolates, the errand had granted the first-year an opportunity to reflect. Yet as he collected his tools, he collected his mind, gradually coming back to the here and now. Perices slung his bag over a shoulder before positioning that basket between his hand and hip once more. With that, he returned to the greenhouse, and again sought direction on which plants were to be hung up for drying (and where this was to be done). Although he had claimed he had his own experience with the procedure, Pericles was mindful of his mentor on the off-chance that Professor MacTavish preferred things to be done a different way.
When all was said and done, the seemingly distractable Ravenclaw appeared to drift aimlessly back towards the dormitory. The errand had been more bittersweet than he could have imagined: it left him longing for home, yet simultaneously, he felt as though it had given him some secondhand experience of being back on the Plymouth estate.
Almost immediately, Pericles' attention was drawn to the six other greenhouses beyond this first one. One of the professor's only rules was that each student only attended the greenhouse fit for their year. Yet the boy had been raised among all manner of plants. What could be in the others, he wondered...? What was so dangerous that a second-year could handle, but he himself was unfit to face? To any onlookers, the Ravenclaw lad was simply standing and staring with a glazed gaze. Yet inside, a highly rare, more mischevious voice of insatiable curiosity mulled over the matter. Would it be permissible to just take a peek beyond those glass walls and windows? Pericles shook his head and drew a sharp, somewhat self-reprimanding inhale. No, he hadn't the time for idle curiosities. Now was his chance to earn chocolates.
Cocking the basket between his hand and hip, the first-year student made his way to the designated plants. He arranged his tools like a surgeon: each was wrapped in a small square cloth, and given they were under no time restraint (to his knowledge), Peri was leisurely while unwrapping and inspecting each and every effect. He considered the sharpness of his sheers, the durability of his gloves, how stably his trowel's head was fixed to its handle. While he harvested, the boy idly pinched and plucked and wayward weeds which he came across. These were tossed out into the grass where they would starve and shrivel. While working, Peri soaked in the aromatic changes. Cut plants sighed their scents into the air, turned soil stirred up that pleasant earthiness. The air was crisp, clear with coming winter, carrying with it a chill that slowly seeped through one's robes. So long as he kept active, he supposed, he would be warm enough.
The task was just as psychologically rewarding as Peri had hoped. At times, he simply let his thoughts wander homeward. He imagined how his family's garden must look at this time of year, with many a more delicate plant stowed away within their humid greenhouse. The grounds would be bland, what with the soil turned and roses clipped away, but that glass hall held the most precious plants they owned. His mother would have already prepared basil and sage for a soup he suddenly sorely missed. What would the professor be making with these particular herbs? Pericles pondered over what little potion-making he did understand, considering each plant he harvested and wracking his brain to try and guess what manner of potion (or cooking) it might be used in.
Come the conclusion of the task, the boy used his thumbs to nudge dirt, debri, and residual clippings from each of aforementioned tools. He systematically re-wrapped them all, ensured his haul had no chance of spilling from the basket, and once all was stowed back in his bag he clapped the soil from his dragonhide gloves. Asides from points and chocolates, the errand had granted the first-year an opportunity to reflect. Yet as he collected his tools, he collected his mind, gradually coming back to the here and now. Perices slung his bag over a shoulder before positioning that basket between his hand and hip once more. With that, he returned to the greenhouse, and again sought direction on which plants were to be hung up for drying (and where this was to be done). Although he had claimed he had his own experience with the procedure, Pericles was mindful of his mentor on the off-chance that Professor MacTavish preferred things to be done a different way.
When all was said and done, the seemingly distractable Ravenclaw appeared to drift aimlessly back towards the dormitory. The errand had been more bittersweet than he could have imagined: it left him longing for home, yet simultaneously, he felt as though it had given him some secondhand experience of being back on the Plymouth estate.
Word Count: 789
Total Word Count: 1,032
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)