Quiet Contributions

[Morgan LaLuna]

The acrobat slipped through the portal from the RDI, holding a small pot with what looked to be a twig with a ribbon on it. He paused to check his phone, and gave a secret sort of smile before starting the trek to a more forested spot of the isle. The gardens weren't so far. Once there, he sat the pot upon a bench, and put hands on his hips. He started wandering then, looking for the perfect spit, just empty enough and far back enough to remain unnoticed until the right time.

Some time passed before he found a place at the edge of what was once rotten, and dead, freshly coming to life in the form of wild things and sprigs of grass. He retrieved the pitted twig, and returned to the spot, settling on his knees. Fingertips broke into soil still soft enough to handle, and he made a decent little hole before reaching to pluck his own gift from the pot, carefully shifting the dirt from the bottom of the pot into the hole, and loosening roots as he set the twig in. Dirt was replaced, and he reached down to fix the ribbon, tying the green satin into the prettiest bow he could manage. Sitting back, he admired his work, letting dirty hands settle in his lap.

He had never been cut out to be a druid, and could not make the twig grow into a giant botanical wonder overnight, but he bent, and whispered and stroked the stem gently, leaning back as it shifted, and the smallest leaf took form, tiny and almost crystalline. And here... the acrobat looked rather relieved. It had been a hell of an expense for a twig that could have sprouted anything at all. This was all the proof he needed that he got what he'd paid for.

Standing, he decided to let the twiglet be... it would grow. Especially here. He took the discarded pot, and started away from the place where he'd made his own contribution.