death_begins | Twenty-Ninth Rebirth [Accidental Video]

Current Mood: apathetic

Twenty-Ninth Rebirth [Accidental Video]

[The PCD flickers on, starts recording. Yuca doesn't notice it at first (no, he's not dead, sorry). He's kneeling on one knee, using both his hands to pull, hard, at an annoying patch of crab grass. He seemed to be in a lot where a building was destroyed, judging from the rubble around him- a sledgehammer lay in the grass not too far off, broken chunks of the building in the street behind him.

He's not shirtless (a prude, really), but it's hot, and he's sweating dark patches into the back and chest of his shirt. Finally, the grass gives way, and he falls back onto his behind, wincing, and trying to shake out the dirt from the clump of grass.

It's then that he notices the PCD, a little into the distance, the recording light on. It takes him a few moments to remember what that meant, and even afterward, he just sits there sort of awkwardly, with a bush of crabgrass in his hands.

Slowly, he gets up and dusts his knees off, sighing.]

When I was a gardener for the queen, [he starts, as if he'd been having a conversation all along. Yuca tosses the grass into a pile of weeds off of the feed, before turning to his next patch, pulling a rusty shovel close and starting to dig along the weeds there.] I learned quite a lot about this sort of thing. 'Oh, Yiska-' that was my name, then- 'Yiska, I want roses.' [He imitates a noble British accent almost perfectly, sending his voice into a little higher pitch as he digs the shovel into the ground.] 'Roses, Yiska, gah-dens of roses.'

[He abandoned the shovel to pull at the weed, using his back and pulling, before it came loose in his hands.] So. [He throws that off to the side too and reaches for the shovel again.] I did it.

For eight years, I planted roses and tended after roses and watered roses- all different colors of them. I suffered through thorns and dead blossoms and weeds. Then- [Digging again.] -ah. Well, then. My Lady the Queen's husband died. She wept- it was one of the few royal marriages where they got along, you see. 'Darling, take out all the roses, rip them out,' she told me. 'I want black flowers, plant them all black.'

Well. [Another time the shovel is tossed to the side.] Well, I did that. I killed all of the roses I worked eight years to keep. I tore them out and planted black flowers. [He stops, standing up, staring toward the sky, trying to remember...] Ah. Viola tricolor. The black prince. [Yuca tugs this weed out easier.] Pansies. I don't know if she liked them or not. I died not long after that.

[He hums, as he tries to think again, leaning a little on the shovel.] It turns out... [He purses his lips, silent for a few moments, before nodding.] -that her children, after she died, ripped out all of the black flowers and built a hedge maze, shortly before they were overthrown. I haven't been back there since. [Yuca finally approaches the PCD, a little irked to have been forced out of his hiding by this, of all things.]

Though, I've heard that they have wonderful gelati.

[He smiles (it's still so broken) before shutting off the feed.]

[[ooc: woo, Yuca is back from being a recluse. He hasn't tagged any posts or made any of his own for about three weeks now and pretty much has had no contact with anyone ever, so IT MAY COME AS A SURPRISE THAT HE'S NOT DEAD idk. But yeah. He's there. And very not-okay after what happened between him and Al. ;w;]]