2021-03-12 - Fruit of the Tree

Spring approaches, inexorable and unavoidable. In something of a reversal of the onset of Fall, the bite in the afternoon air is dampened by a salt-laden, balmy breath off the ocean. It's cool enough to need a hoodie or a light jacket, but the snow and ice are melted and gone. The sky's a deep, vibrant blue between streams of high, white clouds.

Branch & Bole is, accordingly, a beehive of activity. Easter orders are underway, people are working in their allotments, other people are thinking to maybe get ahead of the spring weed situation now that the ground's unfrozen. August is working on one of the allotments, pruning a dogwood and checking it for fungus or mildew. He's in a dark red flannel over a black, waffle Henley, denim jeans, and heavy workboots, a sign he might have been doing tree work earlier in the day.

After the strange dream he suffered and waking up with equally strange items to remind him that it was indeed real, Michel is suffering curiousity. The lithe young male is dressed in a dark grey sweater, dark blue jeans and a pair of practical looking black boots. He carries a small bag with him, which holds the item he has come to ask questions about. A small fruit about the size of an unripe fig, pale green with a touch of orange to it. He enters the shop and glances around, trying to figure out who to ask about this oddity of his. He spots August working and smiles timidly, offering a wave hello with his free hand.

Who's surprised to see a tall, copper blond figure in black making the rounds of Gray Harbor on foot? Ravn Abildgaard is usually on foot. He does rent a car -- a boring, reasonable, sensible silver affair -- but he rarely drives it unless he's heading into Seattle for some reason (something which he has in fact been doing a fair bit of late, maybe he finally found himself a girlfriend). Usually, he walks, sometimes dragging Joey Kelly's mastiff behind him.

Not today, though. He wanders into the garden shop at a leisurely pace and, upon having spotted August and for that matter, Michel, raises a gloved hand in a lazy salute while pretending to take an interest in a few potted -- things? flowers? growy devices? alien lifeforms? -- content to wait for a natural opening in the conversation about to happen in which to drift closer.

August catches movement out of the corner of his eye, spies Michel and pauses in the act of pruning the dogwood to give him an upnod. That brings Ravn into his line of sight, producing a small, smug smile of 'I knew you'd be back'. He tugs off his gloves, sets them along with the pruning shears on nearby bench and moves towards the shop proper. The French doors along the side are wide open, giving the look that the outdoor collection has spilled from the shop, and August is a salmon swimming upstream among all this greenery and the occasional customer.

He angles towards Michel, though jerks his head at Ravn in a clear sign the Dane should stop harassing the succulents and get over there. "How's things?" he asks Michel, eyes shifting to the bag. He knows what it looks like when someone's brought him something to have a look at.

Michel smiles shyly. "Things have been...interesting of late?" He remarks softly. Carefully he pulls the little fruit from his bag and shows it to August. "I wondered if you might be able to help identify this? I...um...found it. Its not any kind of plant that I recognize though. I wanted to see what it was before decided if it was worth planting or maybe eating? I don't know." He shrugs lightly and offers ravn a gentle smile beckoning the other over to join them as well now.

Oh, don't hang out a banner and send out gilt invitations; Ravn is more than capable of taking a hint, and indeed, any excuse to sidle over. Curiosity clearly kills cats but not Danes. "Howdy," he greets them both and glances at the fruit Michel is holding without an inkling of recognition in blue-grey eyes. "Don't mind me -- I need to talk to shop with August but I'm in no hurry whatsoever, and that's definitely not a kiwi."

Behind him, fifty little potted succulents let out a collective breath of relief. They know what happened to the petunias.

So, Joe's the only one insane enough to ride a motorcycle year-round. Oh, it's one of those big Russian sidecar rigs with the two-wheel drive, the ones that are descendants of the scout bikes from the second World War. It's got a distinctive motor, that one, neither a Harley's roar nor the sewing machine thrum of a BMW. He's in a full-face black helmet and a black leather jacket, over gray t-shirt and worn jeans. The helmet gets slung in the sidecar, and Joe's ambling over, heading for August. "Roen, Ravn," he says, affably.

Finally, warm weather. Well. 'Warm'. Warm enough that the window was cracked open in her Nissan Altima. Perdita arrives wearing a ridiculous faux fur coat over a sensible black turtleneck and a pair of tight black jeans and a pair of wedge booties that add several inches to her height. She glances around, clearly deciding this is the place she needs to be, though she looks utterly out of place amongst the bustle of activity.

August arches an eyebrow at Michel. "Do tell," he says, curiosity piqued. It redoubles at the sight of the fruit, which has him pausing, then frowning. "Mmmm. Where'd you get this?" He sounds wary, ready for the answer to be anything other than 'out on a walk' (and not just because Michel said the dreaded I-word--'interesting'--when asked about how things have been).

He cuts a look at Ravn, eyes narrow. "Shop? Don't tell me you killed off what you bought already." Joe's arrival saves Ravn from whatever was coming next ('did you at least save a leaf so I can grow it back for you'); August tips his chin up in a greeting. "Cavanaugh." But horror of horrors, Joe the literal astronaut is upstaged by Perdita, in a...fur coat. August just stares, an expression of 'what even' plain on his face.

Michel looks nervous and smiles rather bashfully as he is asked where he got it. "Umm...well i didn't actually find it. It found me? That is to say i woke up with it in my hand after a dream." Yep. He looks nervous. But then August is staring at something behind him. So he turns slightly. And stares. His jaw drops just a bit. "Oh. My. Goodness." He looks stunned unable to completely process the furriness of that coat.

Ravn at least seems undaunted by the colourful faux fur coat (it's entirely possible that the reason the man wears black and rarely anything but is that he's simply unable to process colour in the first place). He waves a quick hello to Joe and Perdita alike before raising his gloved hands in front of himself in a gesture of mock innocence. "I swear, the hellebore is alive. Kitty has only chewed on it a little. And maybe knocked it off the table a few times."

Then he loses the smile and gives the odd fruit a second glance. "Dream, eh."

Whatever he was about to say to August, the older man's diverted by that new spectacle. Joe, being Joe, goes full metal tactless. "Baby, how many Muppets'd you have to hunt down and kill to get that coat?" he asks her, with a grin. He flicks a look at Michel. "My goodness is right," he agrees. Ravn gets a lifted hand, but it's clear his attention is darting around like a hummingbird. The mention of the Dream slows him down a little. "A souvenir, huh?" he asks, as if it were a matter of course. But then, he's been here over a year.

There's a peal of laughter from the young woman, and she tilts her head slightly, dark eyes bright with amusement. "You keep staring at me like that, Michel, I'll make you buy me dinner." She winks at him, giving a little twirl to show off the full multicolor glory of the coat since everyone seems determined to stare.

In response to Joe's question, she looks thoughtful. "About thirty? It's okay, it was just the Muppets on Ice cast. Miss Piggie helped me." Perdita moves to examine the Dream Fruit, too, clearly curious.

Michel blushes and stammers a bit, quickly averting his eyes. "Sorry." He apologizes softly Turning his attention to the safe zone that is August he asks. "Do you think you can find out what it is? Or why I woke up with it? I thought about eating it, but when it comes to strange dream fruits it might be better to have them examined before consumption."

August gives Ravn the Face for a half-second and no longer. (Latte has been on a mission to eat every fern she sees, thus he won't blame Ravn for Kitty Pryde's actions.) "Maybe we shuold get her some catgrass, then. She can roll in it, eat it, whatever. Perfectly healthy and safe." 'Hard to kill' maybe goes without saying.

He coughs a laugh at Joe's question and Perdita's answer. "Always knew not to mess with Miss Piggy. And it's a lovely Muppet-skin coat." Somehow this comes off entirely sincere. And fades into real sincerity for the question of the fruit. "A dream. Like, one of Theirs?" The capital letter is impossible to miss. August grimaces, eyes the fruit a-new. "Well--I highly recommend not eating it. Planting it could get...interesting, though you'd want to be careful. But stuff from over there can do weird shit to you if you ingest it." He has the DM logs to prove it.

He scratches his beard. "Looks like a syconium, maybe--a fig. So the interesting stuff's on the inside: flowers, galls, whatever." Whatever: pollinators, pollinator eggs and larvae...he'll not mention those just yet.

"I'd be careful about eating anything from over there," Ravn agrees, not that anyone asked his opinion. He sticks his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and balances on his heels, clearly in a splendid mood still -- or so hyped on caffeine that he's about ready to bounce off the rafters. "We could plant it, though. If only we knew anybody who has any kind of idea how to go about such a thing. Unfortunately I only know guys doing show tunes in red jackets while trying to convince me to get on stage to embarrass myself too. Life is hard."

Definitely overcaffeinated.

There's that absurd chortle of a laugh Joe has, smile broad enough to make the lines around his eyes deepen. "Right on. I can't blame you at all." Michel's shyness has him noting, "What's to be sorry about. She wouldn't be wearin' a coat like that if she didn't want to turn some heads." The newcomer gets an approving nod - at least this guy has sense enough to not immediately make a cocktail out of it. To Ravn, he adds, "It's like the old stories about Faerie - where one bite is enough to change you. Or worse, trap you."

"No need to apologize, sweetie, I was just teasing." Perdita winks at Michel, then frowns slightly at the fruit. "Definitely don't eat it. Maybe... save it for Baba Y'ga, or plant it. Seems like something she'd be interested in, and would be great payment." she tilts her head slightly, giving Ravn a sidelong glance. "You go for a swim in the coffee today?"

At Joe's response, she turns her most dazzling smile on him, "I turn heads with or without the coat, but it's definitely eye catching on its own. And soft. Pet me!" she offers a sleeve. If the offer is accepted, the faux fur is, indeed, quite soft, of a better quality than most.

August gives Ravn a Look. "What, you think I can't get up on a stage to act fabulous and be a botanist?" He sighs, tragic and heavy. "Energy is wasted on the young." He glances at the coat. "Though that's not much my style. Itzhak'll love it, though."

Tipping his head to Joe, he says to Michel, "It really is a lot like that. Take some of it into you, you can never leave, sort of idea. I seem to remember someone used some drugs from Over There to get high and the result was..." He waggles a hand. Not a great trip report, to go by his expression. "I got hit with some sap by a dryad, it sort of dialed my Art to 11. Interesting, but I feel like it's similar to breathing pure oxygen. You'll just burn yourself up."

He blinks at mention of the old woman. "There's an idea. I mean, if nothing else, she might drop a hint or two."

Michel nods to August. "Any idea how to go about planting it so it might grow? I have never raised a garden on my own before. I've helped weed and water but I never did the planting myself." He considers the fruit carefully. "Yeah. Eating it seems like a bad idea." Perdita's suggestion has him smiling. "You are a genius. I will ask her about it before I plant it then. Maybe she will be able to offer advice..." He nods to the group. "Thats settled then, I will save the fruit for now then. I will see what Baba Yaga says and maybe plant it once I know more."

Ravn's lip curls into a smile at Joe's comment; tell a folklorist about the habits of the fae, indeed. He nods at the man and murmurs, "I suppose we could always try to count it. One. Done." The smile fades somewhat as he glances at Perdita. "Might have. Still have nightmares about gremlin genocide. Postponing breakdown until Thursday, need to have HOPE ready for de Santos' first group session on Wednesday. No time, will panic later."

Must be nice to be able to schedule stress like that. Maybe it's chemistry; maybe it's simply iron will and too many years of needing to be able to keep a stiff upper lip.

Mention Baba Yaga to a folklorist as well. "Baba Yaga probably knows most things there are to know about this place. The woman is a veritable demigoddess in Slavic folklore, it's her role to know. But keep one thing in mind when dealing with her -- she's not altruistic. You need to pay a price worth her time, or otherwise be worthy of her interest. She's an agent of change. She's not evil, but her role is to mess up your life and force you to un-mess it."

"Fair enough," Joe concedes, spreading his hands. He's got fingerless gloves on, but they aren't the blue-shaded wool pair. No, these are black leather, to go with the jacket, presumably. Obediently, he pets along the offered arm. "It really is. Textile technology on that front has come a long way, hasn't it?"

He cocks an eye at August at that. "I hadn't heard that story before," he says, with clear curiosity. "My experiences over there've been so....well, frightening." Bad enough to scare a man who used to strap himself to things with the explosive power of the smaller atomic bombs for a living. "Yeah, I imagine she might be able to offer some advice, if she chooses. You met her?" he asks Michel.

A grin for Ravn, though there's that wry glint in his eyes. "Yeah. She basically told me to get off my ass and earn what I got, last I saw her." He does have a tendency to luxuriate in his own indolence - there's retirement and then there's retirement.

"I don't think it's his size, but if I spot one in his size I'll definitely grab one for him." She grins, stretching her arms over her head. "Be careful about planting it, it might start demanding you feed it people and then what will you do?" she asks Michel, mostly in jest, but... there's a hint of real concern there, too.

Ravn's comment about the gremlicide gets a sympathetic look. She tucks her hands in her pockets, though, not reaching out toward him. "She gives good advice, from my experience. Or... it sounded like good advice, we'll see how it actually plays out... if it plays out. Just... bring her something worth having if you seek her out."

"Well," August holds out his hands, indicating the shop around them, "the planting I can help with. And," he taps the fruit, "we'll want to be careful. Last thing we need is it sprouting up a forest of itself because it really likes things here, or," he points at Perdita, who might be joking, and yet she could be right on the money. Assuming Baba doesn't angle to claim it for herself, but that's not August's problem.

Dryads, on the other hand... "They slip through the thin spots now and then," he tells Joe. "Finch and I had to deal with some. It was pretty frightening, honestly, because they were trying to kill us. Didn't become unfrightneing until we got them to agree to a truce. Which, they sealed by making us high as fuck for a couple days." He shrugs. "I've had worse experiences. But, ah," he glances among the others, "careful out there. If you see something that looks like a moon but it's a tree? Just run." A pause, to eye Perdita's coat, then, "Mmmm, yeah, too small. It'd make a great Hanukkah gift, though."

He's about to address Michel again, maybe having more to say on the subject of how to plant Veil-originating things, but 'gremlin-genocide' wipes the slate clean. He blinks, stares from Perdita to Ravn. "What?" he asks, voice sharp.

Ravn glances at the astronaut and then at Perdita. "Said something similar to me. Stop running, stop pretending to be someone you're not, go out there and seize the day. Or stay where you are and drown in your mire of self pity. She doesn't sugar coat things much, I've noticed."

He startles a little at August's sudden change of tone, testament to the current caffeine to blood ratio in the man's system. "Dream. Bad one. Me, Maggi Gyre, some blond plumber I have yet to actually find in the waking world -- poor guy was a rookie, had no damn idea what was going on. We found the blasted thief gremlins at last, down in the sewers. Maggi torched the place. They're dead. Might be a few of them that escaped but on the whole -- they're gone."

Give the Dane credit; he can keep a stiff upper lip as well as any British peer.

"In her defence," he adds, "they did seem to already be dying. But, uh, yes. She certainly helped them along. I don't entirely blame her, they've tried to kill me a few times too. Did kill several people in front of me. I don't really want to think about it now. Going to drink myself senseless about it after Wednesday." He must respect August's position as unofficial community leader all the same, considering he coughed up with the story on command nonetheless.

"She's right," Joe says, nodding at Perdita. "Not money, though. It's not stuff that's valuable in and of itself. Valuable to you, something with personal weight. I don't mean you have to offer up your firstborn child, or nothin'."

But then he's listening to August. "How'll I know 'em when I see 'em?" he wonders, sounding more intrigued than frightened. "Why were they tryin'a kill ya? And....that sounds like it would be both fun and upsetting." 'Fun and upsetting' - definitely a good combo in Joe's book.

"Wow," he says, as Ravn explains the gremlin massacre. "Damn. I heard about it, but I didn't realize the extent to which it was a real slaughter. Man, I thought the zombie bear was bad."

"Looks like a moon? As in... glowing, or... spherical?" Perdita asks, looking genuinely concerned by the difference, but then she's getting her attention drawn to Ravn again, and the obvious desire to want to comfort him, but... not reaching out, still.

"Wait. Zombie... bear. Right. I'm moving back to Seattle, after all. I'd rather run into Eddie." she laughs, a little fatalistically, though she's probably not serious. Probably.

August stares at Ravn for a few seconds, taken aback. "Those little bastards from the pet store, that..." That got the poor employee killed. He sighs, rubs at his eyes. "Sorry. Didn't mean to," make you blurt it all out right here in the store, "go over it right now. Getting wasted sounds like a solid plan. After the first session." He gives Ravn a long, pointed look. "You could go to it, you know. Not just to support Ignacio. For yourself." He doesn't lean into this too far, just leaves it out there in that 'I didn't go through a half a decade of group therapy to not mention it to someone struggling' way of his.

"Oh," he sighs, heavy, "you'll know 'em when you see 'em. They're," he raises his arms, spreads them wide, "huge. Impossible to miss. Kind of look like centaurs, if you'd trained a tree to grow like one." He blinks at Perdita, confused, shakes his head. "Sorry, moose. Not moon." He runs a hand over his face. "I need more coffee."

He grunts about the zombie bear. "The Other Side can get a little wild," he says by way of letting Joe field that one.

"Well, I will be going -- somebody needs to keep people in coffee. Whether I'm up for joining... I'll need to think about it. Maybe see who else is there. I mean, might be people without the shine, don't think I'm up for talking dreams of fiery genocide with a couple of guys whose wives don't understand them but when does the next lobster league start." Ravn makes a face.

"I wish I was jokin'," Joe says, solemnly. "I seen a lot of scary things in my life, been in a lotta frightenin' situations, but a creature that looked like a half-rotted bear but could talk. A zombie bear that wanted music....it was all I could do to not lose my mind. Rosencrantz saved me, and I don't mind sayin' it. He played for it and it liked it enough to be distracted. That's how we got away."

"So... that was no moon?" Perdita asks, with a little head tilt, before she smiles understandingly. "It's honestly too early to be awake until about an hour before sunset, but... here we all are. Needing coffee."

"Lobster... league." Perdita listens to Joe explaining about the zombie bear with slightly wide eyes, barely suppressing a shiver of fear. "Why do we stay here, again?" she asks at last, very softly.

August studies Ravn for a long handful of seconds, numerous thoughts flitting across his features. He settles for saying, "Okay." It's a loaded word with more than a few statements lurking in it, 'we can talk about this later' and 'I'll make sure you're there' chief among them.

His mouth flattens at Perdita's question. "Well...the moon was full that night. But I don't think that was involved." He sounds unsure. And keeps sounding that way as he echoes Joe, "...a zombie bear that liked music," like he needs to clarify this is what Joe means, and not just what he said on accident. He runs a hand over his face. "Well the Veil sure never fails to deliver, does it."

He shakes his head, tells Perdita, "Well, I fell in love and got married. Not sure what anyone else's excuse is."

Someone says his name, and August half-turns. A young man with dusky skin, curly blond hair, and a panicked expression waves at him from outside one of the windows, wearing a forced smile of 'oh my God get out here please help'. "What now," he mutters under his breath. "I've gotta go make sure he didn't destroy something, be back in a bit." He moves out of the shop with a purpose. They just manage to hear him ask Ully, "What did you do," and then the pair are lost to sight around the back of the shop.

Ravn grimaces at Perdita. Nerdboy did catch that reference.

Then he hitches a shoulder. "I stay here because it's the one place on the damn planet I've felt like I wasn't simply some transient passing through unnoticed. First place anything I do actually matters to anyone, first place anyone gives a damn whether I'm here or not. Good enough for me, too bad for the lobsters, life is hard. Christ, I need more coffee."

If he sees August's look as the other man leaves, he ignores it. Or possibly that expression on his face says, 'you might need to march me into that group therapy circle at gun point, mister'.

"This town has ways of catching and keeping those meant to stay," he says, gently. A nod for Ravn. "It's like he says - three things. The Shine. Creativity. And damage. That's the trifecta. And then you love someone who's here, and you're stuck." Joe sounds resigned, but not displeased. "The pattern does play out."

"Don't give me that look, you loved my bad joke." Perdita tells Ravn with a tilt of her head and a smile. "If I buy house plants for the center to help purify the air, are you going to be able to keep them alive, or will I have to beg Mr. Roen to stop by and care for them?"

"Well, I'm going to die here, then, because I've got all three in spades." Perdita sighs, hoping she wasn't just speaking prophecy about herself.

"Or you don't fall in love with a person but very much with the idea of feeling like you belong somewhere," Ravn amends; he would, given his lack of attachments of a romantic nature. "I did try, you realise. I went home over Christmas. Wanted to see if I felt different in the old country, if I somehow came to my senses and stayed away. All I was thinking of was how soon I could get back here. Even if it was a fun trip -- Hyacinth came over as well, and we honestly had a quite good time looking at architecture, but on some level I was counting the hours until I could get on a plane back across the Atlantic. I belong here. Even if here is kind of a hellhole."

Beat. "Think we might manage to keep them alive. De Santos works for Røn."

"Maybe," the sailor's voice is gentle. "Maybe. But more likely you'll live and thrive here. This place can break you, but it can also scrape you down to the core and make you become someone or somethin' new. It has a way of forcin' out the truth of things. The Baba....she's just kind of a manifestation of that."

Then he shakes his head. "I meant to talk to Roen 'bout somethin'. I'd best go do it, 'fore I forget. Y'all have a good day...." A creak of leather as he settles the jacket, then he's sighing, turning to go find August.

The young woman listens to Ravn, sympathetically... but then Joe is wandering off, and she remembers she was here for a reason. "Right, I'm... going to find some hardy plants, just in case. Things that are hard to kill." She winks at Ravn, then sketches a wave to Joe, before heading off to look at the various plants, herself, clearly with a lot on her mind to contemplate.