2021-05-13 - Ill-considered Botany

The day for making bad decisions as it regards Veil seeds and fruits has arrived. It's a nice enough day, a break in the cold dreariness of Spring, however brief it will be.

August told Devlin and Conner to meet him at the greenbelt out back of the shop. It's a spot he uses often for this kind of thing: not on the business property, close enough they can easily get help. Over the creek via an ancient foot bridge made from a huge, fallen cypress trunk, through the fir and hemlock and spruce to a modest clearing.

August is just putting the finishing touches on a small plot he's dug out. It looks to be maybe six feet deep and square, with the edges of tarping sticking out from the planting soil he's refilled it with. Presumably an attempt to keep Cell plant roots from going amok. Two large plastic milk jugs sit to one side, labeled in black marker: NaCl and HOAG.

"Hey man," Conner says, ambling onto the property right on time. He takes in all the preparations and says, "Wow, it looks like we're as prepared as we're ever going to get for this."

He's impressed.

It could be a bad decision. Or...it could be the exact right one. Given all Conner's seen so far he honestly can't tell. All he knows is they won't know till they try it. Go go magical mad science.

"How are things?" No need not to be social around all their magical mad science.

August straightens, raises a gardening-gloved hand in greeting. "Hey. I can't take all the credit, Aidan and I talked about this a while ago. I was figuring I'd actually pour a concrete slab, to be extra safe, but," he makes a face, "it's a greenbelt, so that's not an option. Anyways, tarp's easy enough to get, and cheaper."

His answer for Conner's otherwise perfectly amiable question is a heavy sigh. "Not great," he admits to the ground. "Something's a little messed up with my," he rubs his fingers together, a simple hand gesture which probably means Glimmer. "Just one part of it, though, which is why it's weird." He's starting at the dirt plot, contemplative, seems to realize it, shakes his head and begins pulling off his gloves. "Anyways." There's a shoebox on the ground next to the two jugs, as well as a trowel. He opens the box, takes out the fig, and grabs the jug and trowel. "Figure we'll cut it up, do it in parts."

"What happened? Did it just go funny one day or was there a proceeding event?" Conner's concerned, but he heads over, adding, "How can I help?" The question stands either for their gardening or for August's problem with the Glimmer. He doesn't reach out to touch anything yet, just because he's a little out of his element here. Content to either stand back or move in and do something under August's direction.

August starts drawing a finger around the fruit; the motion leaves a fine cut in the flesh, as though he'd used a blade. As before, the faint purplish light spills out, gleaming through this newly formed seam. "I can't make plants grow with it anymore. Can't control them at all--they just die. Had to have my wife heal the one I killed after I tried that." He grimaces; it's hell of a thing for him to lose, even if the shaping can do so much more.

This is probably why he examines each quarter he's produced thoroughly before handing two to Conner. "Go ahead and dig about, mmmm, six inches, just enough space for this, put it in, put some soil back, add a little of," he holds up the HOAG jug, "rest of the soil, a little more of this." Instructions given, he offers two quarters of the fig to Conner. And lest Conner think August had forgotten the other question (how?), he adds, "The usual way--one of those Dreams of Theirs." He licks his lips, might be about to say more, seems to decide against it. He gives Conner the trowel as well. "Put them in that end of the plot, I figure extra space is a good idea."

Conner takes the items and starts digging as directed, and his expression reflects real empathy. "I'm sorry man, that sucks. Your wife wasn't able to heal that in you? Is there a way we can make them give it back? Or do you figure it's best left alone?"

He's quiet as he asks the questions, sensitive to the fact that this has to be a pretty painful topic, all things considered.

August uses his hands, as that's what he's used to doing for personal projects, scooping the dirt with the careless ease of someone who does this all the time. "Thanks. It does suck, a whole lot. She couldn't find anything injured, but," he pauses, wrists on his knees, looking out over the clearing with a distant expression, "maybe I can have her take a closer look. Might be something she missed because I was being an impatient jackass." That admission comes with a sigh. "I just wanted the plants to not be dying, figured I'd sort out the Song later, you know?"

He continues getting his two quarters situated, takes a step back once he's done. "Now, I was planning on pushing these with my Art. But...not sure that's a good idea. So maybe we'll see if they jump start on their own." This said, he gives his two quarters a final pat and steps back.

Conner steps back too, having gotten both of his in the dirt. "That makes me wonder if they did it to prevent you from jump starting these with your Art. As if they knew you had that intent, somehow. But...Song?"

That term's a new one on him.

"And...I mean. I could try to take a look with my thing? It's all uh. Mental stuff mostly, but maybe that will shake something out. Unless your wife also does that, or you have someone else you know who does that you're more comfortable with, which I mean you probably do because you know lots of people."

He winces.

Still learning to social.

August frowns. He hadn't thought of that. "...huh. Maybe. Song's just what Itzhak calls it. We all tend to interact with it in different ways, so, we all make different names for it. Shine, Art, Glimmer, Song..."

He looks askance at Conner, smiling, wry and amused. "She's got a bit of the mind Glimmer too, yeah. We might want some of you who weren't there, though, to sit down with us who were. See if we can find a difference, what changed." He thinks of Kailey, unable to draw, and feels his neck tighten. Maybe it's not just his Glimmer.

That's a thought he'll come back to later. Because now, something is happening. The dirt under one of Conner's two pieces is stirring, slowly pushing up. "Mmm. Here we go."

"Oh. Oh it's happening pretty fast isn't it," Conner says, letting the matter drop as the dirt stirs. He...takes another generous step back. He may be surprisingly adventurous, but he's got a healthy respect, and if this thing's about to go all Feed Me Seymour on them he doesn't want to be close enough to be Baby's First Meal. Still, he's looking more curious than alarmed.

"That's the Veil for you..." August murmurs, taking a half-step back as well. He crouches down, getting more level with the action. He keeps flicking glances at his two plantings, but there's no movement just yet. Conner's other planting is quiescent for now.

What pops out is, unsurprisingly, a young stem. It's pale purple and green, coiled at the tip. A gentle greenish purple glow surrounds it.

"So far so good," August says under his breath. The plant does not, in fact, proceed to prove him wrong on the spot. It does keep growing, slowly attaining a height of about six feet. At that point it slows, begins branching out. The coiled, pale green top remains, like a fern fiddlehead.

Conner glances at August, and then steps forward, gently reaching out to touch the fiddleheadesque thing with a single out-stretched finger. "It's pretty," he comments. He looks at the other one, frowning thoughtfully. "I wonder why this is the only one that sprouted up, though. Was there a...I mean is there a botany reason? Did it have more of the good stuff than the others?"

Yes, very technical. Good stuff.

August cuts a glance at the ones he planted. Still nothing. But, also nothing from the second one Conner did. "Not sure. I'll have to have a look at them later--we'll give them a day, though, make sure we're not rushing it. Could be only part of the fruit was able to germinate, and this one," he nods at the plant, "had that part. Could be it had more of what it needed, so went faster."

An ugly little voice in the back of his mind murmurs another possibility, which he ignores for now. That's easy to do, because there are leaves unfolding from the branches of this plant. They're oversized for the plant itself, like a puppy whose feet are much too big. In the shade of each oversized leaf, a fruit slowly begins to form. They're identical to what was just cut up and planted.

Since the tree hasn't attempted to attack either of them, August takes a cautious step forward. Nothing happens, so he takes another, until he's within a foot. Leaning over to inspect one of the fruits, he comments, "Well...we'll have more to work with."

"Maybe we can just take half of this one and plant each half, and see if that has any impact?" Conner says slowly. "I mean we have to cut it open for it to sprout at all, right, because...otherwise it's too tough?"

After all, August wouldn't have cut it open if cutting it open wasn't necessary. "But maybe half gives each half more of the stuff. Versus quarters."

He pauses, though, and reaches out with his Art to examine the entire plant in all its glory, since all he examined with it before was the seed.

August nods in agreemnt. "Yeah, we only had the one so, made more sense to quarter it, but with a few to--"

He cuts off abruptly, jerking back in surprise. And no wonder: something has begun emerging from some of the fruits. They're like specks of gleaming dust, about the size of a tiny ant, if a tiny ant was made of shimmering turquoise crystal. Maybe a half dozen come out of each fruit that produces them; they weave and bob around, like insects.

No, not like insects. They are insects.

A few promptly vanish into the forest as fast as their teeny tiny wings can carry them. August stills. "...shit."

"I mean...they...could...just be pretty and harmless, right? Except..."

He steps back from the plant and frowns. "That plant is like some sort of black hole for mental powers. I don't know if it will be the same for you, or what that means, but it's like there's no such thing as my ability in things this plant touches. I...don't understand anything that's happening here."

He peers in the direction the ants went, adding, "Maybe we'll luck out and they'll stay small and fairly rare?"

"Maybe." August doesn't sound hopeful. And, well, who knows the price of invasive species better than a Botanist? So, he does what he has to. "We can't take that chance though."

The plant might be a black hole for mind powers, but it's not for Spirit. August starts with the little bugs, though; he can't easily find the ones who booked it, not among the biomass of the forest, but the ones right here, those he can get to just fine. He makes a sweeping gesture with one hand, and they fall dark, plumeting to the ground.

The plant shudders in response. More little insects appear from the fruits. "Do not make me take you out too," he warns it, still sending tiny wasps to their dark deaths on the ground.

Still nothing from August's plantings. Conner's second one is beginning to stir, though. The movements are more furtive and purposeful, less gradual than this tree-producing bit.

Given they now know that these plants produce insects that August doesn't want around, Conner reaches for a trowel. Maybe it would be a good idea to stop this thing from growing before it comes up. So he goes for his second plant, intending to gently...unplant it.

Why wait around for more problems when they've already got one new, significant problem to solve? Not that he's sure the thing will let the process stop, but he's going to give it the old college try all the same.

More tiny, glinting wasps appear and attempt to flee. August keeps killing them. Gradually they taper off, leaving the tree with its fruits sitting there. "Okay. I think it's done."

Unfortunately, Conner's other planting isn't. He goes to dig it out, and his trowel hits something hard, like there's a huge root where he planted it. The ground under his shudders, bucks, just about sends him sprawling. August reaches for Conner to haul him back, just in time to keep Conner from falling into the soil, which caves in as something climbs out.

It's about the size of a large dog, made entirely of wood and plant matter. Slabs of bark form a sort of narrow 'face', thick, thorny branches sweep back from its head like antlers, vines and branches form a twisted, wiry body covered in thick, waxy, purple-green leaves. A pair of brilliant blue-green eyes glow from hollows in the bark-face.

"Uh," August says.

"That's...probably fine," Conner says flatly, in tones that say he does not at all think it's fine. Normally he is the last one to start shooting things. He's usually more inclined to try to communicate, to ask questions. But they're already killing wasps and this thing does not look friendly. He gets steady on his feet with a grateful look for August's quick thinking, but raises his hands.

Electricity crackles at his fingertips, and he raises them towards the Elk-Dog.

Well okay. It doesn't look like an elk. But it has antlers and it's been elks all the way down lately. He supposes he should go look up the symbolism. Of elks. Later.

"'Kill it' is the policy on that too right?" Just checking before he lets fly.

The thing responds to Conner's raised hands by growling at him. What a wolf's growl is to a dog's, this growl is to a wolf's: there's a place inside most people where they know, through instincts gained by their oldest ancestors, that this sounds means death. A dog's growl is a warning, a wolf's is an omen, a promise, a certainty.

This thing's growl does that to their Glimmer. I will devour you. I will unmake you. Cower in your cave with your spears and fires. Wait for dawn. Never go out alone, because I am there. You need luck every day to not be caught; I need luck just once to catch you.

Unlike with the wasps, August hesitates. Wasps are pollinators, they can fuck up biome in unimagineable ways due to the level of their interaction. This thing is a predator, maybe an apex predator. More manageable, as invasives go. Maybe. He hopes. It's possible ecology as he knows it plays no part in these things.

Still.

"No, uh...lower your hands."

"August, are you sure?" Conner asks, half lowering them, taking one step back. "You heard him right? He sounds like he's going to hurt people." He's willing to bow to the other man's expertise, 100%, and he's gone pale at the sound, but determined, too. To the wolf: "Is that an 'if I attack' or is it 'period'? Do you intend to prey on people? I'm all for live and let live man, but I can't let you hurt anyone."

He'll just. Put that out there, too. There's some hidden fire in his eyes. Somewhere along the way he's gotten real protective of people.

"Probably." August is perfectly still, watching the thing stare at Conner. "But I would too, if I'd just been born to see someone killing my brothers and sisters while someone else came at me with a shovel. So. One thing at a time, maybe."

As Conner's arms go down the growling ceases. He speaks, and the creature tilts its head at him. Confused, or considering? It's hard to say.

The thing turns to the shining specs of dead wasps on the ground, sniffs at them. It grunts, moves to the tree, buts it with its head, like a cat or a dog might. A few of the fruits fall off the tree, which the beast ignores.

It circles the area, stops when it finds where August planted to two sections. A small, keening sound, almost like a whine, comes out of it. It begins to dig, frantic.

"Wasps are its brothers and sisters?" Conner says, just as confused as the wolf. He lets the electric sparks go away, and he lowers his hand entirely. "This whole town has a species problem, you know that?"

He pauses and says, "Uh, should we help him? Hey, uh...fella? You need help? Or you got this?"

He shoots August the most 'what the Hell look.' "Someday I won't be wandering around wondering what exactly the hell I'm looking at right? I'll just look and go oh yes, there's an antlered wolf digging and I know what that means and what to do about it."

"Same fruit, right? So..." August half-shrugs. "Eventually, you just roll with it."

The beast snarls at Conner, though unlike the growl there's a note of I'VE GOT IT, FLESHWALKER, BACK OFF instead of I AM GOING TO KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND. Hey, he's making progress in this whole social interaction.

Eyeing the thing's thorn-claws, August says, "No. He's got this." Really, he means, 'do YOU want to risk those?'

It's a tense handful fo seconds as the thing digs. The creature stops, scoops out two dried, wrinkled, withered lumps from the dirt. It deposits them on the ground in front of August and Conner, throws its head up, and howls. If the growl had been a warning, this is a grief so intense it crushes the heart.

The two pieces August planted are dead.

"Right. No, you're right," Conner says, taking another step back, eyes wide as the Wolf growls at him.

But then he realizes they're dead. And realizes why. Probably. Because August touched them. Shit. They've really messed August's powers up if that's the case, if even handling a seed will kill it. Conner hisses a little bit as he steps back from that howl of grief. He feels the full force of it, enough to make his own eyes shine with unshed tears, but there's a greater concern.

This thing might decide to take its grief out on them despite the momentary truce. He doesn't raise his hands again, but his stance says he's ready to scramble if necessary.

August is uterrly still in the face of that howl. He doesn't move, just stares at the two dead pieces of the fruit, listening to the howl. It's not hard to suss out his emotions: they're a complex mass, roiling, full of self-disgust and terror and rage and more besides. He has a lid on all of it, a pressure cooker sealed up tight.

When the beast lowers its head, it looks between the two of them. There is, oddly enough, no blame. Not in the moment. It simply picks up the two dead pieces, moves them to the tree, sets them at the base of it.

...they crumble and decay into dust, and meld with the tree proper. The tree trembles, grows another six inches.

The creature grunts, curls around the tree protectively. It might not be safe to grab the fruits on the ground too close to it and the tree, but a few rolled clear, could be easily retrieved.

So. Now they have a tree and an elk-dog to deal with. August lets out a long, slow breath. "Ah...okay. I hadn't...expected..." He hadn't expected to be making a conservatory for Veil flora and fauna.

The fact that the dog doesn't blame them makes Conner kind of warmly disposed to it again. Sure, it's angry and its people skills suck, but you know. It's a newborn. That sounds like every baby he's ever heard of. Except kind of not a baby. He looks at August and tries to figure out what to say. He finds nothing that will actually help.

But then, maybe what has just happened has helped. It implies some sort of cycle of life here, some sort of...reincarnation of dream stuff. Slowly, one hand out like he's showing he's not making any sudden moves, he does gather those fruits that rolled clear. He's not sure what, if anything, should be done with them. He is sure they can't just...be left to roll around.

Meanwhile August has a long-term problem. "Ah well, um. Yes. This is..."

Right.

"I could go pick up some Purina?" He may offer pet-friendly apartments but he doesn't have any of his own. It's not like he's an animal expert either.

The mention of 'Purina' snaps August out of his current train of thought. A good thing, as it was going nowhere good in an awful damned hurry. "Ah...yeah, what the hell do we do with it. Assuming it even eats." It might not, but all plants eat, so presumably this does too. "Can't imagine we'd be lucky enough it eats water and sunlight and whatever's the ground, but...maybe."

Except these are Veil plants; Glimmer plants. Do they need Veil soil, Glimmer water?

"Ah...okay. I think first, we need to figure out a way to keep them, you know...protected. Maybe--" He stops. No, unfortunately, he can't just grow a bramble wall. Finch can, though. "I'll have Finch build a wall around them. And we can...maybe have Itzhak open a door, move them on through."

He sighs, heavily. There's the wasps escapees. What are the going to pollinate? Well, he can't do anything about that right now. He eyes the fruits Conner's gathered. "Let's keep hold of those. Only," he carefully avoids looking at the hole dug by the creature, "you keep them. For right now."

"Right," Conner says, nodding. "Um. If I find a wasp, should I um. Put it in a Mason jar with holes poked in the top and bring it by?"

They're going to need an entire Veil Conservationist's Society at this rate. Or something. Similar. "This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he says. "Or at least...it wasn't...a great one." Though probably better that it happened here and not on a pot in his apartment. That would have been a trip and a half.

August gives that some serious thought. "Yeah, if you think you can catch one alive, feel free to try. If not," he winces, "well, better they're not off pollinating everything."

He blinks, raises his eyebrows at Conner, looks at the tree and creature. "You don't have to apologize. I could have said no, or warned you off. Anyways," he studies the creature, which is still and unmoving, could be mistaken for a mound of sticks and vines around the base of the tree, "at least we've got some information, right? It's not what we can expect. So maybe we need to be more careful when we try again." When, not if. Oh no, August Roen is not dissuaded by a plant-elk-dog or a strange fig tree that grew up in under five minutes.

"Okay, let's go get Finch to seal this up. I might need to make a special greenhouse just for this kind of thing." Because Conner had one fruit, but Devlin had a seed packet. Also, there's August's little problem to consider.

He needs to buy some land out in Firefly.