Due to the fact that I am really fucking bored, I'm now holding office hours. Come by to chat if you have a question about class, your homework assignment, or if you're just really fucking bored, too.
Stephen could explain the long process of observation and analogy by which he'd come to suspect the geranium's ailment; his memory of sailors, brought into the Navy by impressment and having no aptitude for life at sea or for battle at all, quailing before an action; he rather suspected Crowley had neither interest in nor patience for such an explanation. Instead, he said simply, "I believe it is afraid."
Crowley blinked. "And that's a problem...? You were paying attention in the last class, I hope, Mr. Maturin. Plants respond well to negative stimuli. My own garden is proof of that."
"This is true," admitted Crowley. "Where did it pick up this negative stimulus from then? You were playing it classical music on your cello if I recall correctly..."
"That I was, and have been doing so. I had begun with a variety of pieces, but lately have been trying to play it only more soothing music, in the hope of easing whatever fear it has. As you see --" he lifted one drooping leaf -- "that has availed nothing. There is nothing irregular in its exposure to light, its watering, any of the factors that one might include in routine plant care."
Crowley looked intently at the plant. "If you don't mind?" He reached out and took it from Stephen's hands. "I'm going to try something," he said. "Don't tell anyone else."
Wrapping a hand around the geranium's stem, the demon concentrated. "It's saying something about scalpels, drugs, dancing, leaky red stuff? Must mean blood. Desks, flexible, girl, human wilting?" Crowley took his hand off and looked at Stephen sardonically. "I think that's enough... My recommendation, Mr. Maturin, is to keep your plant out of your bedroom and you should see some recovery."
((If you don't want the plant to tell Crowley any of this, let me know and I'll delete it. I just thought the thread with Stephen and River teasing each other with the geranium was so funny.))
Wilting? "I see. Plants are ... more communicative than I might have guessed." He looked at Crowley, pale. "I should hope you are the only person capable of learning quite this much from a geranium."
(( OOC: No problem! I had in mind that the geranium was afraid it would be the next under the knife, judging from the effects on the one in Teatime's presentation! Except that in this case, the people getting cut never actually die ... so it would be never-ending geranium torment ... not much of an incentive to grow. Alternately, I suppose it could also have been afraid of getting thrown out the window as River threatened to do! But yes, their room is a scary place to be.))
"Unless Sofiel, Orifiel, Risnuch, or Zuphlas* show up, I wouldn't worry about it," said Crowley dryly. "And I don't give a damn what you do or with whom if that's any consolation."
*Angels of Nature, the Forests, Agriculture, and Trees, respectively.
((*g* Glad you don't mind! Never-ending geranium torment indeed. *giggle*))
Stephen had not assumed Crowley himself would care about it. The ilk of Mal Reynolds, though, would be another story. "Consolation though it may be, there are those who do care, and I'd just as soon avoid the necessity of ... dealing with that problem." It might sound like cowardice, and let that be the case if so; better that than to spell out exactly what he was trying to avoid doing. "The names you mention, unless I mistake my guess, are those of principalities we've not seen here, and we do have angels enough." Tone carefully neutral, there. "I believe I know a suitable place where this geranium may be moved and suffer less, ah, mental trauma. A good day to you, Professor."
"I'm not in the habit of sharing the details of my student's personal lives, Mr. Maturin." Except to Aziraphale, who was amused and would never tell anyone else, and occasionally Remus, who usually knew anyway. "Ciao."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 07:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 07:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 07:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 07:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 08:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 08:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 08:54 am (UTC)Wrapping a hand around the geranium's stem, the demon concentrated. "It's saying something about scalpels, drugs, dancing, leaky red stuff? Must mean blood. Desks, flexible, girl, human wilting?" Crowley took his hand off and looked at Stephen sardonically. "I think that's enough... My recommendation, Mr. Maturin, is to keep your plant out of your bedroom and you should see some recovery."
((If you don't want the plant to tell Crowley any of this, let me know and I'll delete it. I just thought the thread with Stephen and River teasing each other with the geranium was so funny.))
no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 08:59 am (UTC)(( OOC: No problem! I had in mind that the geranium was afraid it would be the next under the knife, judging from the effects on the one in Teatime's presentation! Except that in this case, the people getting cut never actually die ... so it would be never-ending geranium torment ... not much of an incentive to grow. Alternately, I suppose it could also have been afraid of getting thrown out the window as River threatened to do! But yes, their room is a scary place to be.))
no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 06:15 pm (UTC)*Angels of Nature, the Forests, Agriculture, and Trees, respectively.
((*g* Glad you don't mind! Never-ending geranium torment indeed. *giggle*))
no subject
Date: 2006-03-22 12:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-22 12:38 am (UTC)