11-12-2019, 04:51 PM
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Crowley was more of an .. indoor plants type of person. There hadn't exactly been space for outdoor plants when he'd been living in a London flat, and Crowley wouldn't have felt up for it even so. They didn't deserve such luxury. ... As was now, though ... well. He had the space, didn't he? A probably irradiated space, but space nonetheless. Crowley was always open to trying new things. So .. he had, and had been very thankful his gardening activities had been so thoroughly overlooked since he was first bringing houseplants home.
.. Listen, just because he was getting better at talking about himself didn't mean he didn't enjoy being overlooked, still. He could usually accept gathering some attention, but it was taking some work.
In any case. He'd planted some plants outside of his residence, neatly tucked away from view. For the most part, anyways. Some of them kept in their pots, but some planted in the soil. Those were .. a little different from his usual fare.
Anyways. It was getting colder. Crowley was not excited about it by any stretch, not least because he'd have to relocate his plants. It wouldn't do to abandon them to the cold, after all. So .. he'd prepared his plant room. Expanded it a little, got it ready for winter. Now all that was left to move them inside.
... Crowley stares at the green plants bleakly. The pots hadn't been too bad, except for his lack of available arms or legs. He'd left them in front of his door to deal with later. A few empty ones have been left nearby for him to move those left into. He'll have to dig them up to put them in, though. A spade, or should he use his paws, he wonders? He taps a paw against the ground, before realizing he doesn't even have opposable thumbs.
That solves one problem. He continues staring. Then, finally, he sighs. He's already filthy, it's not like it matters. He'll just .. have to be careful about the roots.
So, he sets to work. He leaves a wide gap between the dig circle and the plant stalk as he claws into the dirt*. He, very rapidly, gets covered in dirt, pressed so low to see the roots as he is.
"Be grateful I'm not leaving you out to die," He hisses to the shaking plant as he finally unearths it, unharmed. It is ... strangely exhausting. He hadn't really gotten tired, when he was still connected to hell's energy. And he still didn't need to .. sleep or eat or anything, but apparently he got tired now.
Worrying.
*do felines usually dig? crowley doesn't actually know, he hadn't bothered to learn anything about servals before becoming one.
Crowley, very carefully, lifts up the plant in his paws. He steadfast ignores the dirt on his chest and legs in favor of awkwardly wriggling towards the pot, unable to use his upper half. It's the least dignified he's ever looked, and he spreads his wings to help him keep balance, at the cost of his feathers. He unceremoniously dumps it into the pot. If it knows what's good for it, there won't be anything wrong with it. He checks the leaves frequently, anyways.
.. Listen, just because he was getting better at talking about himself didn't mean he didn't enjoy being overlooked, still. He could usually accept gathering some attention, but it was taking some work.
In any case. He'd planted some plants outside of his residence, neatly tucked away from view. For the most part, anyways. Some of them kept in their pots, but some planted in the soil. Those were .. a little different from his usual fare.
Anyways. It was getting colder. Crowley was not excited about it by any stretch, not least because he'd have to relocate his plants. It wouldn't do to abandon them to the cold, after all. So .. he'd prepared his plant room. Expanded it a little, got it ready for winter. Now all that was left to move them inside.
... Crowley stares at the green plants bleakly. The pots hadn't been too bad, except for his lack of available arms or legs. He'd left them in front of his door to deal with later. A few empty ones have been left nearby for him to move those left into. He'll have to dig them up to put them in, though. A spade, or should he use his paws, he wonders? He taps a paw against the ground, before realizing he doesn't even have opposable thumbs.
That solves one problem. He continues staring. Then, finally, he sighs. He's already filthy, it's not like it matters. He'll just .. have to be careful about the roots.
So, he sets to work. He leaves a wide gap between the dig circle and the plant stalk as he claws into the dirt*. He, very rapidly, gets covered in dirt, pressed so low to see the roots as he is.
"Be grateful I'm not leaving you out to die," He hisses to the shaking plant as he finally unearths it, unharmed. It is ... strangely exhausting. He hadn't really gotten tired, when he was still connected to hell's energy. And he still didn't need to .. sleep or eat or anything, but apparently he got tired now.
Worrying.
*do felines usually dig? crowley doesn't actually know, he hadn't bothered to learn anything about servals before becoming one.
Crowley, very carefully, lifts up the plant in his paws. He steadfast ignores the dirt on his chest and legs in favor of awkwardly wriggling towards the pot, unable to use his upper half. It's the least dignified he's ever looked, and he spreads his wings to help him keep balance, at the cost of his feathers. He unceremoniously dumps it into the pot. If it knows what's good for it, there won't be anything wrong with it. He checks the leaves frequently, anyways.
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[align=center]![[Image: ezgif-7-f3e523f182d0.gif]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/463081660515221505/684393717838249984/ezgif-7-f3e523f182d0.gif)