Post by Deleted on Jun 10, 2006 14:05:12 GMT -5
Where unassuming waves cast their lot onto the pebbly beach, drowning smooth multi-hued rocks in soothing aquatic caress, Paikea stood looking out over the shimmering skin of the tarn as a mild breeze whispered sweet ancient nothings on its surface.
He held out before him in nimble hands a four-foot horizontal latticework of sticks, roots, reeds and woven grass in whose grid were locked various types of vegetation: flowers, (several tulips, a square of a few snapdragons, a cluster of lilies) and some vegetables (two onions and a carrot.) All of the plants had their roots pierced or tightly secured by organic knot to make them sea-worthy, able to withstand the whimsical chaotic wave-play. By his feet lay a long branch from a young sapling; this he would use to secure the frame to the lake floor.
He entered the water and it flowed around him slowly, naturally, and he walked with the ebb and flow of its rhythm. Soon he became waist deep, floated the lattice upon the surface; then when he reached chest depth he held out his arms and began swimming using an easy side-stroke toward a small outcropping of rock he had spied piercing underdeveloped waves.
Once at the rocks he released his hold on the lattice and submerged beneath it into the echoing, muted world within. He stirred with a finger the area below the garden frame and a brainless, formless servant of water appeared and kept its quarry near the rocks. Paikea turned to shore, swimming along the lake bottom, separating air from water every now and then to breathe.
He retrieved the sapling branch from shore, which was amply sized, returned to the lattice by the rocks and touched down to the sandy gravel beneath it. He planted the branch upright in the floor, and jabbed at the space near it with a knife-like hand. A cloud of silt billowed and stirred where he had directed the force of water, firmly rooting the branch. His summon disappeared and he surfaced, fixing the middle of the frame to the bough.
He clambered up on the rock, each touch dissipating the moisture underneath so he could grab firm hold, and surveyed his work. It spun, but didn't break free; the branch protruded above an extra two feet and would serve well as anchor. With any luck, it would sprout again, but he did not have the earth magic for such feats and would have to rely solely on nature's blessing.
He stretched out, sunning himself on the awkwardly-shaped rocks, though he appeared quite comfortable, and became lost in the bounty of afternoon rays.
He held out before him in nimble hands a four-foot horizontal latticework of sticks, roots, reeds and woven grass in whose grid were locked various types of vegetation: flowers, (several tulips, a square of a few snapdragons, a cluster of lilies) and some vegetables (two onions and a carrot.) All of the plants had their roots pierced or tightly secured by organic knot to make them sea-worthy, able to withstand the whimsical chaotic wave-play. By his feet lay a long branch from a young sapling; this he would use to secure the frame to the lake floor.
He entered the water and it flowed around him slowly, naturally, and he walked with the ebb and flow of its rhythm. Soon he became waist deep, floated the lattice upon the surface; then when he reached chest depth he held out his arms and began swimming using an easy side-stroke toward a small outcropping of rock he had spied piercing underdeveloped waves.
Once at the rocks he released his hold on the lattice and submerged beneath it into the echoing, muted world within. He stirred with a finger the area below the garden frame and a brainless, formless servant of water appeared and kept its quarry near the rocks. Paikea turned to shore, swimming along the lake bottom, separating air from water every now and then to breathe.
He retrieved the sapling branch from shore, which was amply sized, returned to the lattice by the rocks and touched down to the sandy gravel beneath it. He planted the branch upright in the floor, and jabbed at the space near it with a knife-like hand. A cloud of silt billowed and stirred where he had directed the force of water, firmly rooting the branch. His summon disappeared and he surfaced, fixing the middle of the frame to the bough.
He clambered up on the rock, each touch dissipating the moisture underneath so he could grab firm hold, and surveyed his work. It spun, but didn't break free; the branch protruded above an extra two feet and would serve well as anchor. With any luck, it would sprout again, but he did not have the earth magic for such feats and would have to rely solely on nature's blessing.
He stretched out, sunning himself on the awkwardly-shaped rocks, though he appeared quite comfortable, and became lost in the bounty of afternoon rays.