Watery Wading | Goddess Cybele's Gift Basket

It seemed obvious in hindsight- of course a goddess of fertility would both associate with and prefer gifts that were grown in nature; Her garden was of course created with the goddess' image and preferences in mind. Locke seemed almost foolish in the moment having to have Rune point it out to him, but one surmises that's what happens when you lose the forest for the trees as it were. Taking Rune's advice to heart, it was as if a lightbulb had gone off. He had an idea- or, at least, the Start of an idea, and the tools at his disposal to chisel that spark into something fully formed. Excusing himself from the cauldron with little more than a thank you murmured to the wind, the moo turned heel to beeline towards his apartment. There was research to be done.

Wasting no time once he arrived home, he unceremoniously plopped his messenger bag onto the coffee table and began to upend its contents. Slipping out the books he had checked out from the library earlier in the day, his fingers skimmed along the cover of the book of flower language and symbolism he had grabbed on a whim. Clicking his tongue, he cracked open the spine and began to skim through the pages, unsure what Exactly it was he was searching for but confident that the answer would find itself to him. As the day turned to afternoon, fatigue began to set in as the realization that he had done little more than pore over books aimlessly all day and he rubbed at his eyes with a hefty sigh.

Leaving the book flush against the table, the pheromoo stood up with a stretch, at the very least reasoning to himself that continuing to work without at least a Little pick me up would be little more than a waste of time in the long run. Standing in his kitchen waiting for coffee to brew, however, he couldn't help but let his mind continue to wander, and once he held the mug in between his hands allowing himself a moment of respite it's as if something suddenly clicked. Camping himself back to the tome with a fervor that nearly upended the coffee he still nursed, free hand flitted through the past few pages, fingers tracing along the lines of text until- There. He'd found precisely what he was looking for.

The dappled light of late day sun reflected against the pond, ripples glinting against the surface as the surface tension was gingerly disturbed. The environment was one Locke was well familiar with, a space outside of the city limits of the bluffs leading into verdant forests, one he had taken himself multiple times after its discovery to either paint in solitude or simply slip away from his typical life for a while. Before the forests encroached on the space enough to make traversal difficult, there lay the pond, teeming with fish endemic to the region and a spot that his kobon enjoyed moments to frolic in. The water itself was marshy, relatively untouched, which would make wading into it difficult if not impossible to avoid making a mess of oneself. 

Granted he wasn't particularly concerned with that as he slipped into the water, moreso keeping his footfall soft and as unobstructive as possible to not disturb the delicate ecosystem. Shivering as the chilly water soaked his fur, he stood knee deep acclimating to the experience before trudging forward. Luckily, he wouldn't have to go far, as resting against the lily pads that dotted the marsh lay rosy blooms of water lilies. Coasting his hand underneath one such bud, Locke reached back with his free hand to take hold of a pair of shears he had brought along for just such an occasion. With a practiced motion, he successfully pruned the bloom from where it lay, then continued onwards with his harvest.

The harvest served fruitful, easily gathering enough blooms for his liking yet not enough to disturb the delicate balance at play, Locke trudged his way out of the pond. Algae clung to his fur as he released himself, taking a hand towel from his bag to at least wick away enough moisture so as to not deal with a potential cold down the line, otherwise unconcerned with the scent of pond mire that intermingled with his own wet scent. Whilst futzing with his bag, he next procured from it a round glass vase that moreso resembled a fishbowl or a terrarium and began to get to work.

Dredging the vase into the water to collect enough for a base, one that was then graciously filled with moss and lichen from the surroundings. Once satisfied with this bed of greenery, he gingerly set the water lilies down upon it and let them rest in place. Locke wasn't the type to consider himself a florist nor did he have much Experience with arrangements, but at least in his eyes the setup came across as a more than gracious offering, nodding to himself as a token of self-affirmation as he began to pack up his belongings and make the brisk trek back to the bluffs.