It's there's one thing Nadiya's apartment lacks, it's creativity.
Her apartment, compared to what Irene remembers from the small squared off space that was her own is bigger. If not by a few more inches, it has things that Irene's home did not and things it also lacks itself.
For one, it's repressively bare. There's next to no color anywhere in the house that wasn't already constructed in it. Namely being, the furniture and the padded down quilts of their respective bedrooms. When Irene had come forth for the very first time in this place, she can remember comparing it to that of a sterile doctor's office.
There aren't any curtains in the house, nor are there pictures on the walls or any kind of item that would at least give hint as to what kind of person the owner of the house was. It almost creeped her out at first walking around and finding nothing of Nadiya's that spoke of some form of othered personality.
She supposes, given the schedule Nadiya works and how less often she's home for on weekdays, that she wouldn't have the time for decor. And she doesn't think the scientist would have the patience for it either, so maybe that was reason enough the place seemed so empty.
Kardala, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind it. Sure, the white walls can be somewhat of a bore to look at, and the sterile odor that follows Nadiya when she comes home from the lab does remind her of hospitals and overbearing chemicals. (two things she rather not be reminded of). But it's also isn't the cramped space that is Irene. She's free to move around without some invisible string pulling her backwards when she's walked too far, and her voice can actually carry, unlike the prison she usually resides in.
Though, it is, she would say, not what she would have first expected from the Demon. Maybe something akin to a hellish pit, all chaotic and this, she thinks, is even less of a surprise.
So when Irene comes home with a stock of potted flowers under her arm one quiet early afternoon, Kardala is inclined to ask what the use of it is for.
"Why do you have that?" She asks, her voice prods the inner stratum, penetrating through the walls and entering Irene's private thoughts. Irene just continues on, moving back to close the door and lowering her keys to the basket on the table. She undoes the buttons on her peacoat and turns to lift that off as well, then slips off her shoes.
" Why do I, what?" Irene says, she's alone so she doesn't have to worry about the possibility of being caught speaking to herself. Or not herself? Kardala is another being entirely, so it's safe to assume that they're not one in the same.
"Why do you have that flower with you?" If Kardala could make a motion with her hands, or do much of anything with a corporeal body at the moment, she'd point her fingers to the oddly delicate plant in Irene's hands. It's brightly colored, pear-green leaves drooping low beneath the sepal. "I noticed that when you left the terrible cubic prison, you did not return home outright. You took a different path and went to that shop you always pass and bought this. What for?"
Irene at once, snorts at the way Kardala describes her job. Not wholly wrong in the description but still quite inaccurate. "Firstly, my job is not a prison. I'm to go there to make income and pay my side of the rent in this place, as most people do in the world. And Secondly, I went to that shop and bought this for the house."
"What's the difference if you are forced to sit in the same space for hours?" Kardala grumbles. Anytime Kardala talks, it feels like threads are pulling at someplace warm inside her head, reverberating along the walls of her skull like a far-off motor rumble. She still hasn't gotten used to the feeling.
With the flower still in her arms, she makes her way towards the living room. There aren't many windows in the house, but there is one on the far left side of the wall by the living space. It sits a little behind the TV with an extended faux balcony and a sliding door. Bare, with no contents or curtains to speak of, it looks out into the city above and below. There's just enough floor space to stand on and a railing to boot, but it's not big enough to hold any furniture.
Irene considers it both a shame and a blessing. One, because she's often alone at this hour, and would love a space to sit and read under the current of open air and for another, it's good because the space itself is big enough to hold a plant or two. There's still enough light outside for the room to stay lit and more than enough sun for the plant.
She goes to unlock the sliding door and pulls it open, a heavy gust of air greets her face as one of her arms goes to shield her eyes. The rough, buzzing-grit of the city's construction and hustle lays at her ears and she clutches the flower closer to her chest.
Slowly, yet careful, she lowers herself down to a crouch by the stone-grey flooring of the balcony and places the flowers out by the railing. If she's right, and the weather stays as it is, ( and hopefully her intuition about the next couple of sun days are correct.) then the flowers should get plenty of time to soak in all the light and nutrients it will need.
She stands back up to her full height and nods to herself, happy with the placement.
Kardala on the other hand, doesn't share the same feeling. " Why are you placing it there?" She asks, more out of confusion than genuine interest.
"It's an Adenium."Irene simply states, one of the leaves gets stuck in the ribbing of the railing, and she gently pokes it off. "Adenium obesum , the longer sciencey term. It's found in many warmer climates so it requires a moderate amount of sunlight each day, hence why I'm placing it outside."
Kardala hums in affirmation. Though she doesn't see much prospect for the aesthetic, she can at least agree the color is suitably vibrant under the light. "It's…very colorful." She adds.
Irene gives a half smile to that, "I would hope so."
She had only intended to buy one plant.
The apartment may be their home now, with an asterisk next to it stressing the words Nadiya's apartment below in small letters. And even though they share the space and all pitch in on the rent, there is still that forbidding sense of caution. Like an invisible rule of boundary she can't cross without conflict. So for a week, she doesn't add anything else.
The transformation is a gradual thing. Not wholly invisible or undercurrent, but rather, it's small and undefined. Irene's not sure what came first but she can pinpoint an idea as to where it started. That Desert Rose, for example, is sitting out on the balcony catching about six and a half hours of sun everyday before sunset. She doesn't have all the proper tools for garden tending, but the sweet old man by the abandoned fish market was nice enough to hand her a small bag of fertilizer, and a pot the size of her purse as a beginners' kit.
On weekdays, she is usually the first or second person home, the office is about a fifteen minute walk from their area and the shop a ten-minute one downtown. When Wednesday rolls around, she generally gets to end work early and head home for the day, but she's relegated that time to tidying up the house itself. Firstly being, the living room.
It starts with succulents. They're very small in her hands, she cuddles them like baby birds, so close to her chest. Pins pinching into the fabric. One is placed on the entertainment stand under the TV, it's not the most standard place for a plant, but its an area that at the very least gets adequate light. Another is place on the hallway drawer near the door. The last one gets placed on the coffee table , more for space than decor. With extra money, next week she'll have terrariums to accommodate better air flow. The soil she'll need will probably be specialty kind for drainage, but for right now she's content with what she has.
What follows succulents and soil, leads to curtains and bedding. This one at least, requires the combined strengths of three minds.
When they first opened up the guest room, it was a bedraggled threshold of junk and storage space. Sugar-brown boxes with scribbled over labels stretched clean over the top were traded in for a King size bed. The cheapest they could find and the biggest IKEA had to offer. Old college thesis papers and hastily written lab reports were swapped for plastic dressers and the one wooden desk in the corner is moved for a spot under the two large windows in the room.
Nadiya wasn't so keen on the decorating part, but even she felt a few curtains for the house wasn't a bad thing. They pick out specific colors, white for the sliding door in the living room, yellow for the guest room, and pale baby blue ones for Nadiya's.
Slowly the place started to feel less like a sterile hump of cotton starched walls and popcorn ceilings, and more like…well, she supposes it felt more like a home. Yet even still, the body of it lacked something more.
If the time will let her, and the money and confidence persuade, she could come up with a few spare ideas in making it whole.
Remy comes home early one day to the smell of daffodils.
It's the first thing that hits him when he reaches the hallway leading into the bedrooms. Standing in the middle of the doorway to their shared room. He's got his work bag still slung loose over one shoulder, the sneakers on his feet halfway off and untied.
"Oh, wow."
Irene busies herself with several things on the wooden desk. There are an assortment of potted plants all teemingly placed at her feet and elbows like pigeons at a bird feeder. A watering can sits in the desk chair close to her waist as she tips over it to carefully arrange a slender pot of vivid-bright daffodils next to the window. She's so preoccupied with her task that it takes her a moment to notice Remy at the door. " Oh," she starts, blinking, then smiles. "Hi, Remy, you home from work?"
" Hey," he greets, shuffling some, " Um, what's all this you got here?"
"Just doing some arrangements," She pushes the daffodils further in, picking at curtain. " It's Wednesday again, so I wanted to do some maintenance on the plants. I got these new ones in today actually." She says, matter-of-factly.
Remy looks to the crowd of plants at the floor. All of them look a lot perkier than they did when they first arrived. He remembered when Irene would sometimes come home with a bag of groceries in her hand and pot of some half alive wilted thing under her arms. The one purple flower on the left looks like its petals have slowly regained back some of its color and there's a white one with a new bloom sprouting in.
" These are looking real good Irene," he crouches down to get a better look, a finger pokes at the petal of a trillium. " How do you get them to recover so fast?"
" Good soil, appropriate sunlight and careful maintenance." She pulls the water can from off the chair. Tilting it slightly to pour a modest pool into the socket of dirt beneath. "Most if not all plants requires some form of care to continue living its full lifespan. There's many different, uh, factors to consider and it's better to do research if there's a certain one you're keen on keeping."
"Huh," Remy is sitting criss-cross on the floor now, shoes completely thrown off and bag discarded to the side corner. He has one of her plants sitting in between his legs, fingers thumbing the edge. He face looks like it's processing something. " How do you take care of this one?"
She gives the flower a glance, "Oh, those are Daylillies."
" Daylillies?"
"Hemerocallis spp is its scientific name, part of the genus Hemerocallis. It's known to be easy to handle. That one there is considered a 'Stella D'Oro' because of its yellow color, but it also comes in shades of purple, orange and pink too. "
She pulls back from the window and puts down the watering can to adjust the curtains. Can't have the darn things blocking out too much sunlight, these new beauties are going to need as much sun as they can get in the next couple of days. Last week was dreary with overcast, but a gut feeling told her this week should be better. " They typically require a full amount of sun, at least six hours and a regular supply of water moderately during growth season. They're good with most soil but prefer it when it's fertile. I always try using some form of compost to help keep in moisture. But at full bloom, they don't require much watering."
Remy hums at that, then pokes another flower beside him. "What about this one?"
"That ones a sedum, the clumping type."
"They come in types?"
"Mm-hm."
"Like types like in Pokemon?"
She laughs, " Uh, not exactly. It's more like a hybrid or hybrids. There are several flowers like that but it just means one creeps more to the floor and the other just requires more sun."
Remy keep thumbing at the edge of the pot, sometimes letting his fingers rib and nudge at the soil , then pulls his finger back and flicks some of the dirt away. " Cool." he says, then, "how'd you get into a hobby like this?"
That question brings her pause. "Huh," she pulls back onto the balls of her feet, water can in hand. "To be honest, I don't really remember." She says, a little abash. " I mean, I guess I always considered it a distraction of sorts for stressful days. My grandmother was more of a botanist and sometimes she would have us come out into the yard and help with the gardening, and I guess, some of that rubbed off onto me."
When she finishes rearranging some of the plants, and the watering is done, she places the water can onto the floor and steps over the pots still left over. It did seem like they had a lot overall, and yet there still didn't seem to be much space left for any. She sighs, hands to her hips. "It's nice having these things around again to take care of but I feel like maybe I went a little overboard in keeping so much, huh? Kinda wish we had more room."
"Hmm," Remy looks to the pots on the floor and the pot in between his legs. Thoughts churning around in his head until, like the flash of a light bulb, an idea floats to the surface. "Oh, I know!"
He leaps to his feet with the practiced ease of an accomplished athlete, and smiles looking at Irene."Tell you what, what if I went to the hardware store and got you some shelves to put up on the walls. You know, like book shelves or storage shelves, I don't know what the technical wording for them are but it could be something nice for you to put your plants up on. Maybe we can even get some to hang up too?"
She looks at him with surprise. "Wha-really?"
"Yeah, I mean, if you want. I don't wanna assume right away, and we could ask Nadiya too if it's okay. I mean, it's her apartment too but if you think that could be something you'd like I…" He scratches behind his ear, suddenly feeling bashful. His legs jostling with upheld energy.
Irene looks to the walls of their shared room, at the dressers and bed that sit to one corner. It could be due for a few decorations, but would a shelf work? How big would it have to be?
She looks back at Remy, the thought continuing to roll around in her head.
" I mean, if you're really up for it, then sure."
Over a course of a week, they put up three shelves.
All of which are perfectly nailed in to be just the right size for the plants she's acquired and thankfully are at varying degrees of Irene-height.
It took some hours, and a few scattered nails and tools ( and maybe even a few broke fingernails, ouch) But the project completes itself around Sunday. When the last of it is constructed outside to hang over the railing on the small balcony.
The plants are finding nicer and better homes and Irene feels a little happier now, a little more comfortable.
It's starting to feel like her old home, she thinks, it's starting to feel like a whole thing.
" It is a home." Kardala rumbles, from someplace warm and enlightened. " It is a whole because you completed it."
And she pauses at that, thinking.
Contemplating it as it was, and sits with those words in her head for the rest of the night.
" I just don't understand why you need so many of these things."
It's a lazy Saturday morning and the sun is peaking out over the clouds, casting narrow shadows over the city above. The door to the balcony is stopped open allow to heat and wind to enter the house. Nadiya is sitting on the couch, tapping away on her office laptop. But every once and while she has to stop what she's doing to catch a few flyaway papers from sweeping off the coffee table.
She watches Irene by the balcony door, placing one hanging pot onto the nailed in railing Remy had put up earlier in the week . It's a fairly new one, some low maintenance plant Irene had said was called burro's tantos or taunts or something like that. The old man's shop had apparently received some in just yesterday and Irene had been pretty excited when she saw it.
" They make for good decorations."
"It's a little excessive don't you think?"
Irene simply pouts, craning her head to look behind the pot. " I don't think they're too bad. I mean most what I have is either in our room or on this balcony. Plus I had to get rid of some of those hydrangeas you liked since the soil made them sick."
Nadiya sighs, tapping an even beat onto her laptop with a pen. " Could you at least keep the door closed a bit? I feel like I've spent more time trying to keep my reports from taking flight than actually doing my work."
" Hold on, lemme finish putting this up…"She gets on her tippy topes, netting and tying the rope to together to keep the pot up straight. " And, we're good!"
She steps back into living room, the curtain and door pulled back to a close before locking it. Nadiya looks through the glass door, eyeing their newest addition to the Planttopia Irene has created in their home. " So what's this one called?"
" It's refer to as Burro's tail, or Sedum morganianum for those who prefer the technical science term." Irene says, with something like smugness at the ends. Nadiya rolls her eyes.
"Typically it's a tropical plant known for its distinct foliage. The stems grow upwards but then begin to sag as they age and mature. I've always referred to them as a shaggy dog, because the leaves look like little droopy dog ears and tails. "
Nadiya makes a vague noise at that, looking at plant now, she can kinda see what she means. It has that distinction, in the rough shark-tooth skin of its leaves. clumped together as it was, you could kinda gauge the image of a shaggy dog's ear trailing over the edge of a glass-blue pot.
And it's not like the plants or the curtains are a bad thing. If Nadiya's being honest with herself, it gives the rooms more life. She was never one for decor, never had the time nor or a passion for it. Things like that seem relegated to people who had the palates for design, like some overzealous soccer mom or astute graphic designer. Not unlike Nadiya, whose taste fell for the practical and modest, not unlike her sense of style which was less of this.
She can feel eyes on her, looking at the hanging plants outside swaying in the wind. It's not a scrutinization, no, she'd know what that would feel like. It's curious, cautious, and gauging her emotions. Searching for something, asking of something, and she turns and looks into the face of Irene who's still standing by the door, hanging off to the side.
One brow is quirked, expectingly like a question Nadiya just shakes her head.
"It looks good Irene, you did a nice job." She says, and tries not to look back at her.
A crooked smile spills to Irene's lips, cheeky, warm-shaped and dimpled curved. If Nadiya doesn't read too much into it, then she can at least pretend it means nothing and isn't resurrecting a familiar feeling in the core of her chest.
" You know, we could always put some of these up in your room, if you're interested—"
" Not a chance."
