2020-02-10 - Veil Horticulture for Dummies

The appointed day has arrived. August has a hiking pack with him, and a few things in it: four plant specimens (a cast iron plant, a ZZ plant, and two types of air plant, bulbosa and tectorum), a batch of Hoagland's, some potting soil, a garden trowel, and other useful 'I am going into the Veil' odds and ends previously discussed. (Collapsible hiking staff, Leatherman, lighter and torch converter, pocket torch adapter, rope.) He's prepared this time. Come get some, Jills.

They're assembled in a corner of the Park, away from the carousel of Jills and worms, where August suspects on the other side he can easily plant the plants. It's not too far from Firefly Forest's treeline, but far enough that they shouldn't be in imminent danger from the apparently dozen or more things which go bump in the night that call it home. It's not raining, though the ground is damp, squelching under boots and shoes. August is in a simple squall jacket in blue and white under the hiking pack, a UW sweatshirt under that, denim jeans, and his heavy hikers. "So, I figure, I plant some plants, we poke around a little, then we come back." He looks at everyone else. "Sound good?"

Hiking! Ignacio's favorite $%*! sport. he texted Lalo to let him know there's an impromptu field trip and he would either be missing PT or catch up with him in the ER from doing 'healthy things'. He's got to get his grousing out somehow. That positive attitude doesn't manifest out of the ether. The salt goes somewhere and settles to the bottom of his phone.

Heavy coat, ear muffs, his Gran Scarf with the book on it and the little peacock, mittens, coffee! Two spiritualists means your coffee stays toasty right? He eyes the Merry-go-Round and tilts his head looking at it still not understanding and maybe in that aspect, is winning because he can see something well intended as still being beautiful. Looking back to August he says, "Piece of cake. Angry. Leafy. Resentful cake." he smiles, but offers in dry humor and optimism, "Look, things have been weird this morning, but it's good to do a family camping trip with absolutely no camping in it. Operation Aggressive Altruism is a go, jefe." He shares his coffee with Finch and regardless of the morning off says, "If we are lucky we'll run into that squirrel that saved my ass when I got kidnapped out here that one time. I brought him peanuts in case. He's got a little rat buddy that likes to build things. Kinda wanted to introduce him to Mags."

Finch is bundled up in her work coveralls, because they are perfect for gardening in a hostile environment, and a bright yellow rain slicker. All she needs is a paper boat and she could pass for Georgie Denbrough. If she sees even ONE red balloon she is out of here. She's got her hiking pack on her back, the one she used to use for birding expeditions with Cornell. It has useful things in it like a compass, swiss army knife, flashlight, telescoping walking stick like August's, water bottle, and her field notebook.

She eyes the carousel from across the distance. She radiates distrust for that thing, considering all the patching up of people she's had to do because of it. She half listens to August while flipping the thing off. "If my Utah Raptor shows up, I am totally bringing her home. I can train her not to eat the chickens and Mags." Right!?

"Aggressive altruim, my favorite fuckin' kind," Itzhak says, smirking at Ignacio like there's not a single doubt in his mind. Of course, a mentalist can tell otherwise, but will that ever stop Itzhak from fronting? Nevah. He's in his peacoat and Gran-knitted violin scarf and knit cap, but he's actually wearing sensible, heavy tough cold-weather pants. (You know, instead of skinny jeans that show off his long legs, since in his way he's as much of a peacock as de Santos.) Coffee, too, of course, in his woolen gloves that have the fingertips snipped off. The dude could really be from just about any era of New York in the past two hundred years like this, except for the Espresso Yourself paper cup.

"Youse ready?" he asks the team, glancing from August to Finch to Iggy. Then he squints at Finch, his audio processing catching up to what she'd said. "She won't be happy here, Fincheleh, she oughta stay in her natural home." Which he says like it's something he's been told a lot himself, no doubt by a long-suffering mother trying to keep him from bringing home every fence lizard and garter snake he got his sticky little hands on. "Okay, here goes."

Like he always does, he snaps his fingers to lay down a beat (no crisp snap, though, on the woolen glove, instead it's a thud). Then he sings. "You know the day destroys the night--night divides the day--tried to run, tried to hide--break on through to the other side! Break on through to the other side!" And he lifts that hand and draws it down a line in the air, sparks flying from under his calloused fingertips, the very fabric of reality yielding to his touch.

The border between worlds hears him, obeys him, lays itself open when he calls. Itzhak makes a sweeping gesture, as if drawing aside a curtain, and beyond is the Veil.

"Look," August says, "if a short jaunt Over There to watch me set down some plants is how I get you three to stop being mad about shocking the shit out of one another, so be it." He adjusts his hiking pack, nods in response to Itzhak's question about being ready.

The door opens, and August takes in a deep breath, lets it out. "Here goes nothing," he murmurs, and steps through. His stomach's not sure what to make of this traversal of spacetime, but he ignores it, focusing on landing securely on the other side.

"Yup. Here we go. This is us going. Weeeeee are totally going now." And yes here is where Ignacio stands still. Taking a deep breath he consults Finch, "Am I stalling?" His nose wrinkles and he lets his good leg drag his bad one giving Itzhak a pat on the arm with a thump thump thump of winter mitten on peacoat. "We're stalling. Weeee are going." He consults the team, "If I fall down you don't laugh at me this time, deal?" Deep breath and... yeah he follows August in.

"Itzhak started it," Finch grumbles, trudging through the portal while sticking her tongue out at Itzhak playfully. "Come on Ig, we got this." She keeps a steadying hand on his elbow to make sure he doesn't go down this time.

Itzhak grumbles, "I didn't mean to," wrinkling his nose at Finch. Oh what a scene it'd been, though. So much yelling.

He holds the door, waiting for the other three to go through, and to make sure if Ignacio collapses he's there to catch him. Then he swaggers through himself, all confidence that he doesn't feel. Too much has gone wrong. Too much has changed.

This is the park they know, but just as Itzhak has seen elsewhere on the other side, it's also not. (August alone has seen the Veil park before, so he'd not surprised by what lies before them.)

It's not snowy or muddy. It simply is; there's no sense of seasonal shifts, save the seasons of human emotion. The park's trees are less 'tree' and more 'tree-like', appearing dead and lacking in crown shyness, their branches interwoven and rattling together like wooden wind chimes when the wind blows. The grass is thick and heavy, with a an odd blue tint to it, like someone took 'bluegrass' a little too far.

August swallows against his body's protests at the crossing, gets his footing as they step through. He glances around, tense, waiting to see what else might be around. But there's nothing, for the moment, save the carousel animals struggling to get free. "Do not go anywhere near that thing," he says, nodding his head at the carousel. He eyes the distance to the forest treeline--maybe three hundred yards or so, and these trees look very alive--and points that way. "That's where we're headed. C'mon." He suits actions to words, heads out towards the looming shadow.

Ignacio slings an arm around FInch's shoulders and smooches the top of her head, magenta or not. Everyone arguing like they're 10 again somehow brings an assurance back. "Yeah we do, Inch. we got everything." Walking carefully though the animals in peril? That gets him. He's never complained about Finch's want to adopt all the things. Really her second most beautiful quality; ask him. Likely it's because the first inclination his gimpy ass has is to immediately veer that way to aid them in their peril. He pauses making it only one step. "Okay seriously they need help though."

Finch peers around. She brought her goggles with her this time just in case, but they're perched on top of her head still. She peers at the carousel as it appears on the Veil side with narrowed eyes. "Huh, I wonder if the black peacock escapes now and then and is the one that shows up at the zoo?" she offers up to the others.

Then she heads after August, keeping pace beside Ignacio so he doesn't get left behind. She pulls him along away from the carousel. "They do, but we'd need a lot more than just us to help them. Another time."

Itzhak's back stiffens. The first thing his eyes went to was that fucking carousel and its struggling, uh, captives? maybe? maybe the animals are more like larvae struggling free from their eggs. "Well that's incredibly fuckin' creepy," he mutters. He doesn't argue with August's directive to not go near it. Nnnnnno problem. He puts a hand on Ignacio's shoulder. "We can't help 'em right now." Which he means. That the carousel is beyond their current powers, he senses strongly.

August stops, only a few steps in, when Ignacio says that. He looks over his shoulder. "Remember when Alexander and I showed up at Mallard House almost dead?" His gaze shifts to the carousel. "It's what did that to us. Not them, but the carousel itself." He stares at the struggling animals, sighs. "There were 6 of us, and we almost died. The four of us are strong, but that thing's way beyound our ability to survive." He addresses Ignacio again. "I'm sorry. But we can't help them. If you want to, Isabella's been looking into its history. She might have some ideas on how to get them free."

He starts walking again, leaving it to Itzhak and Finch to manhandle Ignacio, if needed. "Could be," he calls back to Finch. "They're not always stuck in there."

Finch kisses Ignacio's cheek. "I want to help them too, mi amor, but we will do that with an army and research, not just on a whim, k?" She follows August steadily, trying not to look at the carousel any more.

Man the truth hurts sometimes. Does he let it go? No. Does he let Finch go? Also no. Looking up to Itzhak he asks pointedly, "Why can't you just tear the damn thing apart like opening a jar of pickles?" Looking back he says "This ain't over, prison-wheel." He takes the words in and doesn't try to go over there. Accepting August's words there's a pang of hurt, of guilt, and of anger. The kiss lands on his cheek and goes right through him letting his spine slacken a bit turning with her. "Como desées. Alright. I'll pin it to the list... and look at getting a bigger yard or...something."

"Oh I could. But do you think that's gonna fix it? Do you really think it's gonna fix it?" Itzhak, despite his hard words, rubs Ignacio's back. His tall presence sticks by Figgy and Inch like an eternally annoyed sheepdog.

August waits to let them all catch up, grunts at the bitter truth. "Finch and I could crack it into dust. But it wouldn't help. Also," he looks askance at Finch, "those animals aren't animals. They're sentient. I suspect your yard's not what they'd want to live in."

The closer they get to the forest treeline, the wilder the grass' environs become. All manner of little bugs that look similar but not identical to creepy crawlies they've seen before writhe in and out of their line of sight. A long, slithering shape wriggles away, looking not unlike a furred snake; a handful of little sowbug-ish creatures tumble between Ignacio's feet, marble-like in their myriad colors; a pair of small animals duck back into the grass when August walks by.

"Careful not to step on anyone," August says, peering down at his feet.

Finch exchanges a look with Itzhak. Between the two of them, nothing is gonna hurt Ignacio. The entire Veil would tremble at their combined fury. She looks like she's about to retort the comment about her yard when she sees little things ducking out of sight.

"Were...those....rodents in armor?" Her eyes go anime-wide and one can almost see hearts in them. Miss Mags needs armor. And an armored rat buddy. "Hey guys, we aren't here to hurt anyone! We came to plant some things," she calls out in a gentle tone.

Ignacio is kidna affected by this. He's not falling apart and he's absolutely not endangering anyone by doing something dumb and ill thought out...today. The New Yorker has feelings though and it feels bad to wlak away and there's comfortin knowing he's not alone in that at least.

Finch asking about the mice in armor perks him up, "Oh shit, I wonder if those are the ones that broke me out of the wonderland prison?" Iggy was in prison!? Looking around he takes a moment and a deep breath and tries to find the words. "Uhhh Squeakity squeak squeaker squeaken... chikkery chi-chikuiku... If you don't... mind. I didn't learn how to say that part but like, we cool. And sorry for bugging your patrol!"

Itzhak shares that look with Finch. Yep. Nobody's touching their Figgy. Then there's a flood of wee ones and he is very, very careful where he sets his huge boots, like a draft horse surrounded by ducklings. "Shalom Aleichem," he murmurs, formally, as weird little critters go bouncing and tumbling and slinking past, "we mean you no harm. Just here to do some gardening." He shoots Iggy a funny look, while he's cautiously nudging one foot forward, trying to part the stream so he doesn't step on anybody. "When was you in prison?"

The shrews (that's what they were) don't come back out at Finch's calls. Ignacio's small emotional push begins to guide other creatures clear of the group, save for something which springs up out of the grass and lands on dead tree stump in plain view: another rodent of some sort creature, similar to a rat-sized possum. It's dressed in what looks like woven grass or cornsilk dyed black and blue and bound with broader straps woven from hair; very humble attire. It has chunk of bone in one hand, as if for a staff, though it's metallic-looking, copper-colored and shiny. "They're not gonna chat with the likes of you, miss." It's voice is scratchy and harsh. "Not with these big lugs about you." It points the metal bone at Ignacio, Itzhak, and August by turns.

August pulls up short as Finch is addressed. He glances at Ignacio and Itzhak; his experiences in the Veil haven't involved chatting with anything friendly. "That was during Halloween," he asides to Itzhak in a low voice. "When all that craziness was going on."

Finch looks fascinated by the critters. She really wants to start actively studying Veil Zoology like August is tackling the Botany aspect, and Isabella is tackling the mapping aspect, and Iggy is tackling the curses and hexes and stuff. They could really try to make sense of the place between them.

When she is addressed by the possum-like being, she takes a knee near the stump to smile at it, and offer it a finger to shake. "Hi, my name is Finch. These big lugs won't hurt you either. Have you seen the Raptors lately? I was hoping they were doing all right and found their way back to this side."

Ignacio, Critter-Speaker, watches them shoo off. He sighs and wobbles his head, "YEaaaah it was like the day after Finch and Javier and I met at teh police station. I went to this park to write and do a tea lunch and...Wonderland happened and I got arrested by some card guards." He pauses and looks to Finch and back to Itzhak, "Day before I flew out. I didn't want anyone to worry. I ended up negotiating with a really cool rat dude who got some friends together and bust me out." He paused telling Finch, "Really nice squirrel gave me a lift but I had Juniper tell August to try to ya know get a door on this side to get me out. Kinda tricky but it worked. It's fine. Everything's.. fine. Made some rodent friends.."

Looking to the Possum as she approaches his free hand goes to his chest offering, "I am here to lug at nothing. We've come in aid."

"Didn't want us to worry?" Itzhak says to Ignacio, in that specific 'are you fucking kidding me' tone that de Santos gets graced with so often. "You--okay, nevermind, I'll yell at you later."

The appearance of the possum charms the heck out of him, and he glances at August like, I got this. Then he's bowing one of those elegant little soloist's bows to the critter. "How's by ya. They call me the Laughing One on this side a the border. This here's my team. Roen, de Santos, and Fincheleh. What's goin' on? We're here to try growing some of our plants, see how they do."

The creature eyes Finch warily as she approaches, but the offered finger seems to mollify her succifiently. "Finch," she repeats. "Weird name." She offers the metal bone in turn. The gives Finch a good look at it: it appears to be a human metacarpal. "Astor."

Astor eyes Ignacio. "Mmmmhmmmmm. I bet you're not. Then why're you with one of Those Who Seize, if not to serve her?"

She eyes Itzhak next. "Laughing One. You I know about. So you're on her payroll, eh? I bet you're a pretty penny to hire." She grunts when August and Ignacio are introduced to her by Itzhak. "Holy One, Secretkeeper. Don't know either of you. I'm guessing you brought them along for cannon fodder? Good idea."

She peers at Itzhak, then Finch. "Gardening? Since when did Those Who Take garden? Thought you just," she gestures at itzhak, "you know. Ate men."

Oh Iggy, there will be a LONG talk later regarding keeping stuff like Wonderland prison a secret to keep her from worrying. She looks over her shoulder, arching a brow at him, before looking back to the possum-critter.

She blinks at the title she's given. "I don't take. I...do you mean the curse? I'm doing everything I can to stop it. Do you know anything about it?" she asks, hopefully, dapping the bone staff gently as hello. "Pleasure to meet you Astor."

Ignacio has no doubts. He gives finch that look of It was 6 months ago. Clearly it was fine!. Instead he kisses ehr temple before shrugging to Astor, "You know, anyone that claims divinity is clearly lacking it so...." a shrug follows taking no offense in any way. Looking to Itzhak he offers at a glace, Yell at me later. put it on the list.

He takes the time to look around and reach out to see who is here, who or what is listening. When Finch asks about the curse his attention hones in.

Oh Itzhak is gonna yell at Iggy later. That is so going to happen.

"Ah, ya mistaken, we're not--we're not servicing her." Itzhak flushes a little, because, actually aren't they, kind of? Three men working to help her free herself from her family's curse? "Anyway we're just here to garden. We're on a mission of peace, yeah?" He adds, looking around at the migration, "What's goin' on with all these little guys?"

August gives Ignacio a sympathetic glance of, 'see, I didn't tell them, and like I told you they found out anyways' with a side of 'sorry, I tried'. He blinks at Astor's comment about Finch. "She doesn't eat men," he says, almost a little testy.

In as much as a possum can frown, this one does. "Curse?" Astor's nose works. "It's no curse, just what you are. If you mean how you haven't got your wings and claws yet, well," she reaches out, pats Finch's hand, "don't you worry. You're young's all. You'll molt soon enough. No more tromping around on two feet like some heathen." She flicks a furtive glance at Ignacio and August, wings knowingly at Finch, as if in some shared knowledge or joke. "But I'm sure gardening's a fine diversion in the mean time. I imagine it helps keep you busy."

She gives Itzhak an 'uh huh I bet you're not' look when he claims they're not 'servicing' Finch. Is it a saucy look? Kind of. She waves her metacarpal staff in response to his question. "It's just the day to day. But, everyone's more stirred up today, because there's mandies." She turns on the stump to face away from their group at an angle. "So you be careful, Young Miss, cuz that means things that eat mandies are about too. Rocs, pygmaes--scoots." She spits to one side. "You don't wanna run into a scoot. Sure, you've got him," she gestures at Itzhak, "on your payroll, that's good. Just, hopefully you won't have to pay out your hazard insurance." She tips an imaginary hat, sets the metallic bone into the tree stump with a light 'tink' of sound. The stump...seems to be metal? or possibly stone. "Safe gardening, ma'am!"

Astor kicks off the stump and goes sailing through the air in an arc.

"Mandies," August says under his breath, frowning. He watches another hairy snake slink past him, this one spotted like a leopard, with a gleaming metal rattle on one end. He sighs. "Okay, so...we're keeping an eye out for mandies, scoots, rocs, and pygmaes. Whatever those are." Ignacio's Mental guidance has helped; everything is steering around them rather than between them, now.

Finch ponders, wrinkling her nose. "Pygmae. Why does that sound familiar?" she asks. "Be safe, Astor! It was nice meeting you!" she calls after the possum-mage. "Well, that's not something you see every day," she murmurs to Ignacio. She looks over to August. "Any idea what mandies even are? I mean Rocs I assume are big ass birds. But Scoots?"

Ignacio guesses to FInch, "Big ass flightless birds? High speed snails?" He gives the possum, Astor a wave and presses a kiss to Finch's temple. "Don't let it get to you." If Ignacio was scared of that curse it's not keeping him from living in that house. Worse things than living in that house, like not being able to be there for all life's tiny moments. "Pygamae? Like Pygmaelion? The... wait I think that was the sculptor and the creation or was that the Chick who was cursed to repeat shit?" Pausing he boggles at himself, "That was Echo. Nemmind. Okay I'll try to keep our little buddies from being tripped on and... maybe they can tell us what's going on with that sadness-go-round."

Itzhak tips a finger in salute to the possum as she bounds off. "See ya around, Astor." Maybe or maybe not. He hasn't actually met again most of the Veil people he's known. But hey, you never know. "Maybe...pygmies, like in Diablo III?" he hazards a guess to Ignacio. "Jeez, them mobs were racist, what the hell, Blizz?" he adds, just randomly kvetching into the void. "Okay, anyway, let's get our shit done, maybe we don't gotta learn what a scoot is."

August watches the possum go. He shakes his head in response to Finch's question, frowning. "Not sure." He sighs. "Like Itzhak says...we may just have to find out." Which isn't exactly how he wants to learn about the Veil, but, here they are.

They get moving again, approaching a spot where the grass begins to thing and the trees loom. There's rich dirt here, packed firm but soft with moisture. Easy enough to plant some things. heavy undergrowth spills out of the forest, weirdly lush for this time of year in the real. August eyes the broadleafed plants as they spill out of the forest as he slides his pack off his shoulder, but focuses on getting the task at hand dealt with.

When August picks a spot, Finch unslings her own backpack and takes out her field journal to begin jotting down information on landmarks and other things they can use to find their way back to the spot and check on the plants and their progress. She sits in the dirt, sketching the area loosely, not overly artistically, but enough to make the place recognizable. She also pulls a few little flags out of her pack, just yellow plastic triangles on spikes, to mark the corners of the plot.

"Look at yous all comin prepared an shit." Hey the shorter New Yorker has to give props to good prep work. He pauses and his head tilts in that way like he's listening for something 'audible' that's not audible. "Uhhhhh , Allo?" He frowns and flaps a hand. The struggle to keep up? It's exhausting but being able to focus on his part keeps him busy enough to keep moving without complaint. Finch shutting the neuropathy down in his busted ass leg is a lifetime value of help. "Yo, fam? I think I got something. Well... someone. Sorry. Allo?"

Itzhak stands guard, coffee in one hand, other hand tapping out a rhythm on his thigh. This Jewish shaman has work to do, and this is what he's doing: watching over his family of choice while they do their own work. Just as Ignacio tilts his head, Itzhak turns his own curly dark head, that magnificent beak sweeping around to point at what he hears. "...Guys," he mutters, low and urgent. "You hear that?" He strays a few steps in that direction, alert as a spaniel stalking a pheasant.

August pauses in the process of pulling the test plants out. He listens, frowning, glances at Ignacio, then Finch. "No." He keeps his voice low. "What is it?"

*CRACK* *CRONCH*

The sounds are methodical and consistent. Every now and then they pause, only to resume after a faint thump and rustle. As Itzhak and Ignacio movie that way, they smell...fresh cut grass. Leaf aldehyde, strong and sharp in their noses.

Between the heavy folliage they can just make out some sort of large thing, probably the side of a horse, shifting slowly among the plants. It's a dark blue-black, with wild, orange stripes.

"Field work is what the boss and I do," Finch quips to Ignacio. Ornithologist and Botanist. Out in the wild is where they are most at home. Except maybe in Gray Harbor, where being safely locked in your house is marginally more homey. "Hrm?" Finch asks at the notifications from Ignacio and Itzhak. "I don't hear anything."

Ignacio pauses in his focus offhandedly murmuring, "YEeah. uh huh. Still proud. Shhhhh." He's on look out and to learn the area and that's what he's attempting to do. He murmurs, "Z, cover me. Keep planting." His head tilts and he reaches out to try to probe the mind that's out there. Try and put the calm out there now as they didn't come for trouble and these NYC boys are still operating on a Don't start none, won't be none clause.

Itzhak narrows his eyes. He hates when Ignacio insists on taking point. That's HIS job, dammit. But he doesn't argue (out loud), merely follows him, boots quiet on the soft soil. "I gotcha, Naishka," is his answer, as his strength gathers itself in his tall narrow frame. Whatever Finch and August don't hear, clearly the boys have a line on something.

August pauses in the act of filling potting soil in around one of the plants, watching Ignacio and Itzhak as they go to investigate. He keeps at his work, pausing every now and then to keep tabs on them.

What Ignacio and Itzhak see is some kind of enormous caterpillar. Big and fat, a good ten or more feet long, blue-black with wild orange stripes and bright yellow dots that shine like gems on each segment. A huge, gleaming spike with an obsidian sheen and a golden glow, curves from the back-most segment.

And in fact, there's not just one of these things; there's a dozen or more, scattered among the plants. The sounds they're hearing are the caterpillars stuffing their faces. Their colors and patterns vary--there's one that's bold yellow with eye-searing blue spots, here's one that's fuscia with dark bronze dots--but their overall size and shape, and appetite, is consistent. Further back into the trees Ignacio and Itzhak can see a swath of devastation in the undergrowth.

Finch gets the notes done and plants a little flag on this plot. She assumes they're going to attempt to plant in a few different spots with different soils and conditions. Then she starts helping August with the planting proper. "Should we bring some soil samples back for testing? Itzhak can bring them back across, right?" she asks curiously, unaware of the catepillars.

It's talky, not hitty. Not that it's really stopped Ignacio before. Hearing Itzhak confirm he's not wandering off into the wilderness of bad ideas alone brings a confidant nod to the Spaniard. His hand goes out to flap for August and oddly in front of where Finch is in only the broadest of senses. the intention is there if the concern isn't a bit backwards. Yes, anything running at Ms. Celano today will have to get past that arm bar. You have been warned, world!

The munchings continue The view though, while bad for the plants has him catching his breath; not in fear but in awe. "Woooooah..." He does a quick summary and says quietly, "Heeeeey, I think someone opened the salad bar." There's a pause and he asks confused, "I thought bringing things *out of the veil was bad?"

Will Itzhak ever let Ignacio limp boldly forth into bad ideas alone? Nevah. He's right by his side, long fingers tapping out a rhythm.

"Oh, man," he mutters, when he realizes what CRONCH is coming from. "Guys," he calls over his shoulder, "this ain't gonna be a good place to plant that stuff. In fact let's ...let's just go somewhere else." He's getting nervous. Those are some big frikkin' caterpillars. How big will the butterflies be?

The hornworms don't seem terribly interested in Ignacio or Itzhak. The yellow one rears up to study them, it's real eyes tiny and red in its large, bulbous head. A few seconds of this, then it drops back down and returns to stuffing its face. It has a belly to make fat and ready for cocooning.

"Yeah, or I can," August says, moving on to finish another plant. "It's not great," he calls to Ignacio. "But she's right, we might want to try some things out." Is August literally contemplating growing plants in Veil dirt? He sure is. Somewhere Alexander is having a heart attack.

He hears Itzhak say that, though, and frowns. "What's wrong?" he calls.

Ignacio isn't really taking up a defensive stance looking to August and arches an eyebrow. "This is not me saying no, but this is me officially reminding what happends on epidemic levels when shit leaves the Veil. So when we're all dying of Pox or something I'm reserving told you so rights." There's a nod and a furrow of his brow murmuring "Do what you gotta do buuuut... we got some little friends on the way." He tries to reach out and find the source to push out one emotion there: Friendly. He holds up one finger to Itzhak trying to make a connection with nearest source <<Uhhh hi, neighbor.>>

Finch chuckles at Ignacio being the logical one here. But she pipes up, "I brought seal-able containers so we can be sure it stays where we put it. And we'll isolate it to work with it, I promise. Remember, SCIENCE!" she calls with a grin. She pulls the containers out of her backpack. Don't tell Gran she absconded with the good Tupperware. At the news this might not be a good spot she frowns. "Should we move?" she asks August.

Itzhak calls over his shoulder, voice low, trying not to spook the things, though...when does anybody spook a caterpillar? They're pretty involved in munching, right? Well whatevah, he keeps his voice low. "Uh, okay first, yeah it's bad--" taking things out of the Veil, "second there's giant freakin' caterpillars comin' our way like biological John Deeres. Giant. Freaking. Caterpillars how do you guys not see those?"

He lets Ignacio handle the diplomacy. Iggy's good at that. He isn't.

August nods at the tupperware, mildly impressed with Finch's forethought. "Of course it's bad," he says, a little exhausted with hearing that. And, well, Itzhak's right. There could be eggs from things in the soil, microscopic but capable of turning into who knows what. And then--

"Giant what?" That's enough to get August off his knees and moving over to Ignacio and Itzhak. He stops dead at the sight of huge caterpillars feasting away. He murmurs, "Holy shit," calls back to Finch, "Yeah, maybe uh, don't bring the soil." He's not bringing actual Mothra into the real world, accidentally or otherwise.

All of the caterpillars keep munching away. There's no real response to Ignacio's query from them, beyond a single-minded thread of 'gotta eat so we can make our homes! eat eat eat'. Save from one, who has a distinct notion of, 'what's that?'

And 'that' echoes back faintly to Ignacio; another single-minded focus, this one that of a predator who's caught wind of his prey and is inbound. Big, fat, juicy prey. The pitterpatter picks up in volume; they can all hear it now.

August is staring at the caterpillars, though. He snaps his fingers, points. "Mandies," he says, indicating one of those huge, sharp tail horns. "Manduca."

Finch blinks and she puts the Tupperware away to stand beside August, gawking at the caterpillars. She'd probably love to bring real Mothra back. "Are they butterfly or moth caterpillars?" she asks, trying to remember from Bio class. "

Ignacio has a 50/50 shot at guessing and says, "I thiiiiink moths? So... neat. but um....Eyes up team. I think our hungry little homebuilders are possibly part of a bigger food chain here."

Yeah. Ignacio De Santos (Saint of FIRE, thanks old possum woman!!!) pauses and turns his attention to the Caterpillar heard and warns. <<Careful. Hide! Be safe. Something else comes to eat. Shoo....eventually!>> Hey they're slow okay. Also they are not meat eaters so all he's got to worry about is collateral damage. Since he's super good at finding all of he he knows just where to look for any. Ay.

"Mandies," Itzhak echoes, eyeing those enormous spikes adorning caterpillar butts. "That don't look like it tickles." The news that the larvae have predators of their own makes him wary, and then he catches that rapid pitter patter and THAT makes his head jerk up, and he gets a hand on Ignacio's shoulder to urge him back to Roen and Finch. "C'mon. If we gotta exit in a hurry we should all be together."

"Moths," August confirms, hands on his hips. "Spotted hawkmoth. But mostly people just think of them as pests that eat their tomato plants."

Do some of the caterpillars' gleaming eyes narrow at August when he says that? It kind of seems like they do. He doesn't notice, though; he's too busy look from Ignacio to Itzhak. "Yeah," he says, finally hearing that noise. "...yeah. Okay."

The caterpillars peer at Ignacio, munching away not unlike cows in a field.

The pitterpatter comes closer, stops. A long, thin, bright bronze pole, wobbly and flexible, emerges around a mound of dirt and plants that's gathered around a large tree stump. A second one appears on the other side. One of them touches a bright fuscia caterpillar, and it responds by flopping onto its side and swinging that huge horn around towards the wobbling pole.

Which, as it turns out, is attached to a head that's appearing over the top of the mound. That head is on a long body that's just one segment of legs after another. It looks, for all the world, like a metallic house centipede. And it flows over the stump, clearly intending to launch onto that caterpillar, flailing horn or no.

The other caterpillars panic and begin to stampede. Much like stampeding cows, it's a problem, because when motivated they're fast. And because Ignacio warned them, that way lies safety!

"Aw I love moths," Finch says with a frown. Well duh, She summoned Mothra afterall. Then things arrive that are far less cute. "Fuck! Do we help? Or let Veil nature take it's course?" she hisses to the others, backing away from the centipede thing.

Ignacio really likes to be the voice of reason but when those legs keep coming and coming and coming he can't help but have the horrified look crawl onto his face. "Oh god... Uhhhh my brain says nature. My stomach is saying protect all these chubby baby caterpillars eating like... everything under the sun." Taking a deep breath he turns to look away. Looking to the three and not being any further than one arm's length from Itzhak in case he has to hop on his back and bonk him with a stick to run faster he says, "My tomatoes also say nature. This isn't... this isn't our fight as much as I hate to say it." Looking to Itzhak he pauses to murmur, "Ey, thanks." That's for backing him up on Taking **stuff** out of the veil is **bad**

The hunting pack of bronze centipedes tiktiktiktiktiktiks their way out of cover and Itzhak immediately falls in love. Of course. "Oh wow," he breathes. "They're gorgeous." He personally has no problem letting nature take its course, green in mandible and pointy feeties, but--but--oh welp now there's a stampede. Why WOULDN'T there be a stampede. The earth begins to shake under panicking caterpillars, each of which probably weighs a good couple tons or so, humping themselves desperately away.

"We're leaving!"

Grabbing Ignacio with one arm around his chest, he hauls his best broseph bodily around.

August startles at the sight of the...whatever it is (centipede? millipede? he's not an entomologist, he only knows bugs that eat plants) emerging around the mound. He's way more unnerved by that than the caterpillars stampeding. After all, stampeding is pretty much what he'd like to do as well.

"Yeah, time to go," he says, half-stumbling as he turns to runs over to his pack and grab it up. Well at least he got his plants planted?

It turns out caterpillars, not unlike seals, can haul chubby ass when it's needed. The one the centipede is descending on is keeping it at bay with that big horn, but the centipede is fast, and given those fangs in its mouth, maybe also poisonous. They begin a flailing, thundering fight. This might well be a sacrifice play; run, friends, I'll hold him off.

Finch reacts on instinct. Ignacio is in the path of danger. She stops and raises her hands, planning to maybe set a fire or break some wee legs, but instead, she just things to the caterpillars, <<We are big scary caterpillars too, you don't want to come this way!>> and they begin to shy away from the group. "Did I just do that?" she mumbles, because she sure couldn't do that before that weirdness happened on the 11th.

Ignacio is not fast. He turns to Itzhak and says only , "Yo, Master Blaster!" And with that turns to hop up on Itzhak's back. "Ugh I'm gonna get a damn nosebleed doing this. Not from the... telepathy. Fro the altitude." Not the first time he's called in for a carry, but he's also not drunk and yelling WOOOOO I"M A VARITECH PEWPEWPEW either. This happens when you watch too much Robotech as a kid.

Picking up on FInch's signal he tries his best to keep that signal boosted to veer them that away like he did when they called Mothra. He never had to think about the phrase 'like that time we called Mothra' before be moved PNW. Huh. Well here's to not being hugged, trampled, eaten or bit by all of nature.

Itzhak grabs Ignacio under the good thigh and hauls him on his back with the strength of a Joey Kelly training regime combined with adrenaline. "Don't blame me if the air's too thick down there at sea level!"

He wheels to bolt. As he does, the earth rumbles with his power, shuddering and shivering--and rocks erupt from the soil, stacking themselves in a vertical V formation. A wedge, to split the herd around the team. "I'm takin' us outta here," he snaps, "get ready!" His free hand comes up, preparing to snap aside the border of the Veil like he's making a dramatic entrance through a stage curtain.

"Yeah you sure did," August says, grabbing one of Finch's hands to haul her along. "Let's go."

The battle of the titans rages on behind them, the lone caterpillar flailing in calculated fashion. He nabs one centipede-thing and sends it flying through the air; it sails past the group and lands on the ground with a crash. It flails, struggling to get back upright, just beyond where Itzhak is gesturing to open the door.

All of them feel a voice crying out in their minds, high and piercing. Behind them the caterpillar's horn has struck true, and the centipede is trashing, trying to get free before it too is thrown. The rest of the mandies are turned aside from the group by the combined work of Finch and Ignacio, and further guided by Itzhak's barricade. They thump off through the park, shaking the ground as they flee.

Finch clutches August's hand, her dark eyes wide as she watches the lone caterpillar go all Crouching Caterpillar, Hidden Bruce Lee on the centipedes. "You show them what's what, big guy!" she cheers it on, running behind her boss towards where Ignacio and Itzhak are. The mental cry of the centipede makes her wince a moment, but she just mutters, "Serves you right, you all ganged up on him."

Ignacio hold onto Itzhak, he imagines, looking like Scooby climbing Shaggy and holding on for dear life. Still, there's no panic. There's a fuck ton of concerns, but no panic. His head's on a swivel relying on being Itzhak's eyes behind his head. "Inch, can you juice em up? The caterpillar?" It's hopeful. Look, he's got a fuzzy spot in his heart for moths and centipedes are scary fucked up looking. IN a battle between chubby and fuzzy vs. scary af? Yeah. No contest. Maybe it's shallow but he's comfortable with his life choices here!

Trying to focus like Alexander and Tobin talked to him about with calm intent he takes a deep breath and tries to hone in on battle bug's mind and give it some inflated sense of encouragement. <<You got this lil buddy. Defeat it. Don't be food. Have lunch. Be amazing as a moth. You earned this.>> the audible words he uses those are, "Cabron, don't run me into a branch!"

Itzhak, on the other hand, has a soft spot for bitey slinky predators. (I mean look at who he's dating!) Also, these caterpillars are being very problematic. He doesn't interfere with the blessings and encouragement, though, just goes full speed carrying Ignacio like a sassy Spanish duffle bag.

"Quit ya bitchin', de Santos! Christ you're worse than me!" The fabric of reality warps and bows under his hand when he reaches out, sparks shedding and flying from his fingertips. The Veil sighs and parts for him. Beyond is the park, the somewhat saner version. "Finch, Roen, move ya ass!"

August doesn't quite drag Finch through the door, but it's a near thing. "Help the Manduca later, escape now." He steals himself and rushes through the portal, teeth gritted against the incoming nausea.

With Finch's help and Ignacio's encouragement, the caterpillar manages to fling the centipede it stabbed a good bodylength or two. It struggles to right itself, eventually manages that and begins limping away. It probably won't survive with an injury like that.

The centipede which was thrown near them manages to right itself, but rather than show even a little interest in the four as they flee the Veil, it trundles off back into the forest. That's enough prey fighting back for it, fuck you very much.

And the fuscia caterpillar which was attacked, well...it now has all of these lovely plants to itself! And it's worked up quite an appetite.

*MUNCH* *MUNCH* *MUNCH*