Summary: Tattoos, talks, and Theology
Date: PHD 140 (September 5th, 2009)
Related Logs: None

The greenhouse is quiet in the very early morning hours, about two hours before sunrise. Most of the Ranch's occupants are still sleeping. The smell of weat earth hangs heavy in the air. Ollie stands in the back, with the sleeves of her long sleeve shirt rolled up, left half unbuttoned over a pair of ratty old jeans. She carries a mister in one hand, and a little paintbrush in the other. She wanders around a few potted plants, gently misting or brushing water over the leaves. Occasionally, she shifts pollen between plants with the brush. The mister makes a soft whooshing spray noise every time the pump lever is depressed. Her hair is mostly pulled back in a tail, but it's loose, and several strands have fallen free to curl against her cheek.

The morning's silence doesn't seem disturbed as the quietness, eerily so still settles around the farm like a blanket. And so when the door to the greenhouse opens, it doesn't even cause sleep or sound to shift much over the property or even the room. Eyes give a quick once over the plants in here, as fingers move out to touch along the plants leaves. A careful examination as the priest finally allows a sigh of-relief? Respite. Hard to say, but he's in here, just-walking around. Currently he's dressed in his usual fair. Dark undershirt, and his loose worn jeans-and boots. As for warmth the green campaign jacket hangs over his shoulders. Given the look Lysander's clergical wear must either be packed up or drying, as he is usually never without that standard brother's shirt.

Ollie doesn't glance back right away. She may be too focused on her plants to notice someone else in the greenhouse. Finally, she says, "Don't touch the ones with the fuzzy leaves." The words are quiet, but carry well enough in the space. It's warmer in here than outside, even if the sun is down.

"They don't look like lambs ear so I figured, not too." Lysander says with a pause. one hand coming back, before it is shoved right down into his jacket pocket. There's a look down to the back where the blonde woman is standing and working. And so he is moving that way and no longer is he touching plants. "How are you?"

Ollie glances over briefly, eyes roaming Lysander's appearance quickly enough that she might not have noted everything he's wearing. Maybe it was just a quick weaponry scan. "A little tired," she admits, spritzing a plant before she moves on to set the bottle down. She adjusts a little battery powered lamp, and brushes some pollen over the organs of a flower lightly, touch very gentle.

"Didn't sleep well?" asked as the Priest comes closer. One hand reaches out as if he is going to touch her, however the Lysander takes time instead to simply look to her arm, and there is where he touches, to let fingers come across the ink. Of course he didn't ask, so this might go into one of his WTF files. "I like your ink." A nod there before the fingers come back. "I have quite a bit myself."

Ollie shakes her head slightly in the negative to his first question. She finishes up with the brush, and wraps it in a little paper towel before her eyes go again to Lysander. "No, I haven't slept yet." One might have gleaned from the weeks here that she retreats to the greenhouse when she needs to distract herself, the loft when the night is nice and she needs to think or smoke, and the hammock out back to sleep, weather permitting. Her entire posture changes as Lysander's fingers brush over her arm. She holds very, very still until his fingers retreat, and swallows. She doesn't look up. "I did most of it myself."

Lysander nods slightly "You'll be shit come breakfast. Eat up when you do, and I'll take your patrol round if you want?" Still offered there before hands are back into his pockets. And usually when she comes in here, the priest has the good grace not to follow, but invading now didn't see too bad. Instead he felt as if she could use the company-whatever that means these days. "The Brothers did mine upon my ordination. I received my black bars first as an acolyte and initiate into the Order and into Seminary." apparently when one makes a pact with Hades, they do so in flesh and blood. "I earned the rest." Quiet for a moment after that part "They are lovely-you've got a good hand.." and he drifts a little to take a look a things "Everything alright?"

Ollie's eyes trail over the plant nearest. She runs her finger over the soil, then reaches down to brush her hand over her thigh, to knock the damp soil loose form her skin. "… How much of your body is done?" It's an idle question, or seems so. Her eyes follow him for a moment, then return to the plants.

"All of it." added back before he is looking back to her. " I have my major pieces on my chest, and back. Arms and legs. There might be some free space along my hips closer to my groin, but I'd have to be a frakking moron to get anything there tattooed." Apparently needles near his junk is not a welcomed idea for Nikos. "And my face is free, but I was in prison when I was supposed to get my tears." a shrug there

There's a pause in her movements, and Ollie turns her gaze again toward Lysander, mid-packing some dry soil into little pots with her hands. She resumes after a moment. She makes no comment on his junk. "I you'd like, I could make some ash inks."

"You're no Brother, or Sister-sadly. But.." and he lets it hang there for a moment "I would appreciate that." And so he turns his attention back towards the woman for a moment. "You know." said softly, as still Lysander doesn't budge from his new place back here. "You never did answer my question if everything is alright…We could, you know-talk about it like normal people." Though Lysander is anything but, normal as has been evidenced before.

Ollie considers those words for a moment, eyes lowered, she finishes up a small pot, and moves onto another. She pauses in the middle of that one, fingers sticky with damp soil. She never seems to answer quickly, without consideration. Except for that once in the loft. "I'm a peaceful environmentalist. We're post nuclear war. People are killing each other for scraps." Her words are quiet. "Of course I'm not okay." She reaches down to dust her hands off on the thighs of her jeans, and then she reaches for a watering can. She makes her way down the line of plants toward Lysander, dampening the soil as she moves. There are also several budding plants growing in back, which explains where she came up with the smoke. "Why were you in prison?"

Lysander had been meaning to ask, since he has some Chamalla left, but not enough to use all the time, though knowing there's a crop of pot laying about does make things a bit more interesting, and well relaxed as far as he is concerned. A step back to allow the woman time to move amongst the plants. Though to her question there is a faint frown for a second. "Do you really want to know?" offered back as he is leaning in to smell one of the flowers she moves past. Assuming the answer is yes there's a pause before he is looking right back to her. "I was in prison for killing someone." Surprise, surprise right? "Murder via assisted suicide." hands don't shift much from his pockets "The trial took long, and I was being incarcerated through out the whole ordeal. Classified as violent, and flight risk will do that."

Ollie's reaction is very subtle, just a slight sway in the water can. She doesn't look up right away. She finishes off the line of plants, and empties the can on the last one. Finally, she asks, "Did the he or she ask you to help them pass on?"

Lysander is now silent for the better part of the conversation or time between it seems as only his footsteps can be heard moving behind her. "Yes." offered finally. "And as a Brother, one cannot deny one's death with peace and dignity if it is asked." Which was brought up in court. However besides words, and the fact neither priest nor the dead person would confess. Well there you go. "But, they did ask."

Ollie nods once, as he affirms that he was asked. "Then it wasn't murder." Her ideas on this subject are pretty cut and dry. She glances down the line of plants, eyes settling briefly on the more poisonous, before she looks back to Lysander, warm brown eyes on him for a moment. "People should have a choice, when they're in pain, and have no alternatives."

"I agree." the Priest replies. Which, could mean an admittance there, but with Lysander it is really hard to tell. If true, then it means Nikos did kill someone, but did so at the insistence and thus it was an act of Mercy and not murder. "The only time they lose the right to that choice, is when they are trying to kill someone, out of greed, and cruelty." a look back towards the plants for a moment. "Sometimes.." offered after a long pause "I think plants have a better deal-than we did. Sure they do not experience the same grand things as we do-emotions, life, all the tastes, sounds and smell and of course companionship." silence "But, they show the perfect circle, of life, death, and creation. It is possibly why the Rich One took Demeter's daughter as his wife."

"All men covet, God or mortal," Ollie replies, with a quiet laugh. She finishes up with the watering, checking, and general maintenenace. She moves back through the greenhouse to flick off the battery powered lamps, and the greenhouse falls into darkness, lit only by the moonlight above, which is almost full. "Some men forget where the boundaries are. Some men forget to ask permission."

"And then they get what they reap as hades sees it. All is weighed and then judged." and like that he is quiet letting the darkness settle in, but it seems the Priest is not too terribly worried as he begins to move along for the door, tracing his steps back easily even in the dark. "Should I have asked before touching your arm?"

"Yes." Ollie replies, the word soft in the dark. She doesn't say that she doubts he is a man who asks permissions. There's a lot she doesn't say, many words that remain trapped inside. No one who thinks that much could possibly be saying everything that occurs to her. Self control. She must meditate often to maintain it in situations such as the ones that crop up here, living life as a refugee on a mostly-dead planet. "Will you next time?" She follows along after him, headed for the door, and the yard beyond.

"Yes." said as his own hand keeps the door open for her, where he remains waiting at least for a little bit longer. "Do you understand me now?" Or are you even close to see there's a bit more than cruelly taking out another man's throat? A brow up for a second, but it doesn't last as he turns and looks back towards the farm house.

Ollie shakes her head slightly. She pauses on the threshold of the greenhouse, just outside it. She takes a deep breath of the cool night air, and replies, "No." The word is soft. "I don't."

Lysander nods as he closes the door softly behind her. "I hope one day, you do." said simply, before he is turning away from the farm house for a moment. "Get some rest, if you can." And with that he is moving off into the darkness. A walk, if you will.

"Me too, Lysander." Ollie watches him for a moment, and then she turns, too. "Me too." The blonde heads across the lawn, for the hammock strung between two large trees out behind the barn, where she's sure to find Galatea already and waiting for her.

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