Carlisle nods before starting off in one direction, his pace even despite the stiffness that clings to his entire frame. "This way."
He wasn't wrong about the garden not being far; it's within eyeshot of the Memorial Garden now that the trees that once filled the area are gone. Within ten minutes they are there, the green monument on the horizon revealing itself to be a lush garden as they get closer. Poles and stones make up the various structures to hold the vines of his coilers, their tendrils reaching passively for them both as they draw near; most of the plants near the ground are contained in patches surrounded by stonework, each rock carefully chosen and placed according to its size for maximum stability.
At the center of the garden is a small cottage that doubles as his work shed, though if the curtain and plants sitting in the window are any indication, it serves as a home away from home. The beds around it hold an array of smaller plants, some with curved, thorny claws, and others dotted with powder as white as fresh snow. Needless to say, this place wasn't here when the city with its strange spires was built. It looks as out of time as a cleric like himself in the modern world.
"You'll have to forgive my coilers for being a bit overgrown," he notes, eyeing the eyes on the canopies as they shift and move, so slowly that one might think they weren't moving at all. "I haven't been as diligent with pruning as of late."
Uuugggh Sorry this took me so long!
He wasn't wrong about the garden not being far; it's within eyeshot of the Memorial Garden now that the trees that once filled the area are gone. Within ten minutes they are there, the green monument on the horizon revealing itself to be a lush garden as they get closer. Poles and stones make up the various structures to hold the vines of his coilers, their tendrils reaching passively for them both as they draw near; most of the plants near the ground are contained in patches surrounded by stonework, each rock carefully chosen and placed according to its size for maximum stability.
At the center of the garden is a small cottage that doubles as his work shed, though if the curtain and plants sitting in the window are any indication, it serves as a home away from home. The beds around it hold an array of smaller plants, some with curved, thorny claws, and others dotted with powder as white as fresh snow. Needless to say, this place wasn't here when the city with its strange spires was built. It looks as out of time as a cleric like himself in the modern world.
"You'll have to forgive my coilers for being a bit overgrown," he notes, eyeing the eyes on the canopies as they shift and move, so slowly that one might think they weren't moving at all. "I haven't been as diligent with pruning as of late."