Post by xelar on Nov 11, 2011 2:26:51 GMT -5
having completed his hours long withdrawal into his meditation, bassoon decided that as calm and wonderful as this village was he could stay no longer, quietly and calmly he donned his traveling robe and stepped out into the heat of the perpetual day.
he had not forgotten his promise to aid with tending the fields, so with a nod of acknowledgement to the elder, who was passing on his wisdom to a small group of children soliciting him for his wisdom, thats where he headed, out into the mass of neatly hoed rows of blue crops, ready and able to be harvested.
he did not intend to use any ki techniques, he felt that for two long namekians had let there various caste traditions keep from making them truly live as one people.. he intended to make a statement of brotherhood by picking a small field, by himself and by hand.
and so he began, pulling a cart behind him and painstakingly uprooting and placing every single one of the vegetables carefuly in the slowly growing mound of produce.
though he was far stronger and faster than many of the average villagers, the task was still a monumental one, and it took him the best part of 12 hours, made every muscle in his body swolen with pain from the repetitive motions of uprooting the plants.
it was as he drew closer to the village with his towering mound of produce he realized the folly of his actions, several of villagers stood with there heads lowered.
he had not sent any messages of kinship to them, he'd merely shown them up, by doing what it would have taken them several people and hours to do. his heart grew as heavy as his limp limbs as he deposited his the cart in the village center and with his own head bowed in shame for his lack of insight, passed through the village without further incident.
he had not forgotten his promise to aid with tending the fields, so with a nod of acknowledgement to the elder, who was passing on his wisdom to a small group of children soliciting him for his wisdom, thats where he headed, out into the mass of neatly hoed rows of blue crops, ready and able to be harvested.
he did not intend to use any ki techniques, he felt that for two long namekians had let there various caste traditions keep from making them truly live as one people.. he intended to make a statement of brotherhood by picking a small field, by himself and by hand.
and so he began, pulling a cart behind him and painstakingly uprooting and placing every single one of the vegetables carefuly in the slowly growing mound of produce.
though he was far stronger and faster than many of the average villagers, the task was still a monumental one, and it took him the best part of 12 hours, made every muscle in his body swolen with pain from the repetitive motions of uprooting the plants.
it was as he drew closer to the village with his towering mound of produce he realized the folly of his actions, several of villagers stood with there heads lowered.
he had not sent any messages of kinship to them, he'd merely shown them up, by doing what it would have taken them several people and hours to do. his heart grew as heavy as his limp limbs as he deposited his the cart in the village center and with his own head bowed in shame for his lack of insight, passed through the village without further incident.
