As if materialising from darkness itself, Lucaya proceeded to answer his question. So she was watching us. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed her, he must remember that she’s particularly good at concealing herself. He tilted his head slightly at her words. “Ah see, does yer cooncil juice nae git contaminated then? Have ye found a'body has gotten peely-wally after swallying the cooncil juice thare?” ‘What are you looking to make Jekyll? I must say, I'm intrigued.’ He grinned a bit at that. He never thought it mattered to him, but it was surprisingly nice to be able to share his ideas with. He placed a few of the branches in a line, each one having a reasonable sized groove, perfectly in line with each other. “See, I wis thinking we could connect thae branches tae transport water. We kin have fresh flowing cooncil juice right tae us then. I carved oot the branches using a sharpened rock, we’d need quite a lot more, but it would be easy tae make more.” “They kin be stuck together with resin, and I have a few ideas o' how tae make sure the wood doesn't rot.” Now gesturing to the string he’d used to tie the branches together and to carry, he added, ”The terrain kin be challenging. Bit we kin tie the water transporters tae tree branches with this string so it can progress downhill, which hopefully kin limit disruption from animals as weel. Alternatively, a better idea would be, we kin attach two halves with resin tae make a pipe, and dig it underground tae avoid disruption by birds.” His eyes were bright from explaining his idea, and from many more ideas buzzing in his head, uses for various things, but he’d found that too much information tended to overload others. “Whit dae ye think, is it possible? Is it worth it? Is there anything you'd suggest tae be changed?” He wasn’t one who could be offended, even direct insults didn’t bother him. His eyes sought put answers, criticism, areas that he’d overlooked and that he could rectify, he related nothing to himself, a challenge to his idea was not an insult to him. Rather he would be thankful that someone had taken the time to consider his thoughts.
Jekyll
Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm.
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