[open] apples and quinces, lemons and oranges

[nedofpies]

Who: Ned, open to all
What: Here be species-swap logs involving Ned the unlikely fertility god.
Where: Anywhere (preferably outdoors).
When: Duration of the event (58 - 61); put date in header, please.
Warnings: Blood, kidnapping, creepiness and general Ned-terrorizing? [will add more as necessary]

Ned wanders the town barefoot, leaving a path of fruit and flowers and vegetation behind him. There are daffodils and bluebells, hyacinths and crocuses, irises of all colors, primroses and poppies and periwinkle in profusion. When he stops to sit quietly under a tree, by the edge of the woods, the vines spread out from his body like paint creeping through water. They slowly wind their way up the trees, or else sprawl across the ground, swelling with strawberries and blackberries, grapes and kiwis, passionfuit and cherries.

He doesn't understand why it is happening, but from the sound of the messages over the communicator, everyone has been going through some strange changes. As far as Ned's concerned, being some kind of plant conjurer is better than some options.

Since he can't think of much else to do with his time, Ned lounges in the dappled shade and makes bouquets. All he needs to do is rake his hands through the soil and a few minutes later, up come the snapdragons, up come the cala lilies. He finds that, if he focuses on a particular kind of flower as he does it, sometimes it is mixed amongst the others. As he sits the hydrangeas are bubbling up around him, shielding him from view.

Ned isn't worried about resting in the woods, despite all the dire warnings he's heard in his short time here. He is at the very edge, just in the shade of the first few trees; the lions and tigers and bears can't possibly have any objections. So he lounges in his cozy bower, hazy, half-awake (he hadn't exactly slept well, the previous night), weaving crowns of camellias and garlands of gladiolus.

Comments

Day 58

[thezerothlaw]

Being outside is vastly different than it was. He's aware of temperature in a way he wasn't, as being too hot or too cold is actually uncomfortable now. There are also smells: not the same as detecting smoke or gas or other compound in the air, but actual scent, which is altogether a new and complex sense.

So it's the flowers that get Daneel's attention. He doesn't remember there being flowers here, which is curious in itself, but the smells. Flowers are valued for their scent as well as their colour, and this is worth investigating.

He hadn't expected to find anyone else, though. "Hello, Ned."

[nedofpies]

Ned is resting with his back to an apricot tree in full bloom, his lap full of flowers, fingers idly lacing together some Queen Anne's lace. He does not hear Daneel's approach, staring into thin air with a distant, unreadable expression. When Daneel says his name he looks up, eyes brightening with recognition.

"Hey."

He sets aside the flowers in his hands, notices just how much his garden has grown since he last drew out of his thoughts enough to notice. The honeysuckle has draped and dangled its way between the branches of the trees, closing his resting spot off from view of the woods. He turns to Daneel and says, with a wry smile:

"I hope pollen doesn't interfere with your circuitry?"

[thezerothlaw]

"It would not, except..."

Daneel falters. Behaving appropriately as a robot is easy; doing the same as a human is less so. Before he was speaking to his superiors, and now it's... equals? It's hard to conceive of.

"I no longer have circuitry. I appear to be fully human as of this morning."

So many flowers. He can smell them, deep and heady and musky, a complicated perfume he was never before aware of, as well as the emotional component that comes with such a pleasant aroma. It's good. "Are these your flowers, Ned? May I... smell them?"

Day 58

[recognize_an_opportunity]

It had taken until it wasn't quite so bright outside for him to be comfortable going out. While the sun didn't seem to seriously injure him the way it injured the vampires of legend, it still wasn't pleasant, and he wasn't sure he wanted people seeing him in this state anyway. Unfortunately, with an angry dragon for a roommate, it had become necessary to leave the house for awhile, which was why he found himself wandering to the edge of the woods.

He noticed the flowers before he noticed Ned, and in fact, started counting the flowers before he realized that the flowers were a new addition. Halfway through counting, he looked up, having realized that someone else was there. "Oh, hey."

[nedofpies]

Ned made the decision, sometime around sundown, that he wasn't going back to the house tonight. He's weighed the odds and done a bit of soul-searching and overall he thinks it is safer to sleep out here. He doesn't know how long. What he knows is that he doesn't want a repeat of the night before.

So he is concentrating on moss - springy, soft, wonderful moss, lovely to lie on. That is, until he hears footsteps approaching, spots Meyer coming closer, counting carnations. Ned had glanced at his communication earlier in the day, been curious at the blank screen, the recitation of numbers.

"Counting blades of grass?" he asks, by way of greeting. "I wouldn't bother. There will only be more a minute, look."

With that he reaches down and rips up a clump of petunias, only to have a mass of silvery-green stalks of lavender begin to creep up out of the soil a moment later, purple buds slowly uncurling.

[recognize_an_opportunity]

"I wouldn't be counting if I didn't have to."

But, at the very least, he can count quietly, so as not to bother Ned's lounging, and he moves over to the lavender. That's a bit harder to count than the blades of grass, and eventually, he looks back up at Ned, raising an eyebrow.

"So. This is what you turned into. A... flower conjurer?"

And maybe he's a little jealous. He'd have much preferred being able to make flowers grow than being stuck as a counting vampire. He's been trying to avoid face to face contact with people as much as he can today, unsure of whether he'll want to attack them or not. So far, he's found that as long as he doesn't stare intently at someone, he doesn't seem inclined to attack. He hopes that luck holds.

evening of day 59

[rigging]

The woods is where Jesse spent half of his day, so when he catches the scent of what he thinks is Ned, and a metric fuckton of flowers, he - pretty much sneezes forever, actually. But he hasn't seen much of Ned, and he remembers what Galen told him about what happened, so Jesse's maybe a little concerned. He's definitely going to have to investigate this.

So he does! Ned will see a wolf trotting up to his little den of flowers, sniffing at them and immediately sneezing like seven times in a row. With a whine, the wolf paws at his nose, and then scoots back to growl at the flowers. He can smell you in there, man.

[nedofpies]

At the sound of very distinctly canine sneezing, Ned sits up. He didn't think there were any dogs in town; his mind jumps to the dire wolves that are supposed to roam around in the woods. Surely he isn't far in enough for it to be one of those? They hadn't come bothering him last night, so why would they be bothered now?

He stands up just in time to see the wolf making an irritated noise and swiping at its nose with one paw. Ned can't help but smile at that. It's such a Digby-ish gesture, and it makes him miss home with a sharp pang. His fear vanishes as quickly as it came. The wolf is alone, and there's nothing dire about it.

"Sorry, buddy," Ned apologizes warmly, dropping into a squat. He watches the wolf with bright interest, staying still, not wanting to spook it. The smile that he uses on animals isn't like the one he uses on people; it is bright and unreserved, all teeth and crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, extending one hand in the wolf's direction, slowly, in case he feels inclined to test Ned's scent. He isn't stupid; he keeps an eye on the animal for any signs of fear and aggression, but its body language is all wrong for an imminent attack.

[rigging]

Jesse's going to morph back (now that he knows how) but Ned comes out of his little den of flowers with a smile, and Jesse pauses. Obviously he's not recognizable in this form, so Jesse thinks maybe he'll just... stay this way for a bit. Just to see if he can cheer Ned up. The nightmare thing - it's something Jesse's been through, though maybe not to the same extent. He feels bad. It's something like solidarity, right?

So Jesse just lets himself settle down into the wolf mindset. It's not hard. He's basically a big, dumb dog anyway.

Ned offers a hand, and Jesse scoots forward to sniff it, then lick it, and then immediately sneeze again. Dammit. But he ignores it, because he's decided he's just going to barrel forward and lick Ned's face. Why not? He might be a wolf, but that smile made him happy.

Morning of day 60

[nevermindtherunning]

It had been 48 hours since the Doctor had woken up with this ruddy ailment. With each second ticking away, he hoped he'd return back to being a Time Lord, but with each second the more that saw that slipping away as well.

It was a defeatist attitude, but the last time he had looked in the mirror, he noticed the dark circles under his eyes, which seemed to summarize everything. Humans were suppose to sleep, weren't they? He was exhausted, and... OK, a bit drunk too.

He wasn't even sure where he had found the rum anymore, and he had completely forgotten that humans weren't able to control their metabolism. As a Time Lord, he could reroute the breakdown and reverse the effects of the alcohol.

Tie hanging loose around his neck, he trashed the empty bottle and... those were pretty flowers! He looked up and noticed they were in a specific path, but the planning of it was rather pathetic. If there was even city planning here. He followed them, noticing with his movements the colors blurred until a color didn't match them.

"Ned! Neeeed! Neddy-ned! How your garden grows!"

[nedofpies]

Ned is sitting cross-legged, both hands resting against the ground, concentrating on apple trees. Every day, he's getting better at this. He can't make the trees grow and faster, but he's patient. Patience is important, for a baker. He knows how to wait.

Still, the arrival of the Doctor is a pleasant and diverting surprise. Ned looks up at him, taking his hands from the soil and waving his hello. It's hard to miss the way the Doctor is weaving or, when he gets closer, the rather powerful smell of rum on him. He'd certainly gotten an early start, hadn't he? Not that Ned was judging; he'd been there, done that.

"You know, I never did really know what a cockle shell was?" he says, "No pretty maids, either. But there are plenty of bluebells." The area is littered with them; bluebells and buttercups, delicate blue and rich yellow, in the shade of Ned's little makeshift orchard. He's only managed a dozen or so trees, thus far. Trees take time, take focus. But he's pleased with his progress, all in all.

Now that the Doctor is closer and Ned gets a better look at him, a look of worry comes over him. "Are you alright?" He doesn't look like he's doing very well.

[nevermindtherunning]

He's not really listening as he plops down on the ground next to him, "Have you ever been to the beach, Ned? All sand and crabs and water and lost friends, and bloody burning suns..." He doesn't give time to let Ned even question what he meant by all that, "BUT THERE are shells everywhere. Clam shells; that's the cockle shells. You can eat them -- the clams, not the shells."

He flops on his back, rubbing at his eyes, "Right as rain! OH! Another gardening reference. Oh, I'm good!" He was anything but.

Day 62

[greenisnteasy]

The Hulk likes spending time with Tony, but he finds time to go for a walk. He likes being in nature too, the quiet of it, away from people; as much as he likes having friends, he needs some peace and quiet too, sometimes. He spots the path of flowers and is curious about them because they're pretty and they smell nice, and it's pleasant to walk along the path they make. It's pleasant to enjoy pleasantness without worrying about Banner taking over.

What he isn't expecting at the end of the path is a guy, and definitely not a guy who's vaguely familiar.

"Didn't I smash you?"

[nedofpies]

Ned hears the Hulk coming - he's not exactly a light stepper - and sits up, watches his approach with a look that's somewhere between apprehension and horror. But he doesn't seem to be breaking anything, or tossing around bits of outdoor furnishing, so Ned stays where he is. In fact, he doesn't even look angry. Of course, he's still huge and green and muscly and terrifying, but perhaps Ned's fear threshold has gotten screwy after the last week or so. The Hulk hasn't yet done anything actively horrible, so Ned doesn't freak out just yet.

"Yes, you did." And then, because he doesn't want to sound like he's making accusations, Ned adds quickly, "But I don't think you did it on purpose. I was just kind of in the way."

See, he's blaming himself, not you, Hulk. No reason to get mad or you know, smash him again.

[greenisnteasy]

The Hulk studies him, and then nods. Yup, sounds about right. That doesn't mean he's not sorry that Ned did get in the way because the Hulk doesn't enjoy hurting people who don't hurt him, but... he was in the way. Pancake doesn't seem to be too upset, and the Hulk isn't interested in upsetting him; he's interested in the flowers, and the more he's near Pancake Man, the more he feels... good. He stares at him for a few seconds, transfixed, before he comes nearer to him and then sits heavily.

After another few seconds of creepy staring, he looks down at the flowers around him; he holds his hand up, hovering over the flowers because he knows if he touched them, he'd ruin them. Instead he runs his hand over top of them, only nearly touching them.

"Where'd these come from?" They seem new.

Day 60

[gleans]

He has to do it eventually, and Galen is tired of hanging around in the house. He doesn't like sitting and ruminating on what ifs when he could actually be doing something, and two days after the incident, Galen is sure enough of himself that he can at least try to find Ned and apologize. It's what Ned deserves, after being nothing but kind to him.

It's weird to think that he's following a scent - what, some kind of mental scent? -, so he doesn't think of it that way; just considers it a sort of instinct as he heads away from the house, in the direction of what he soon sees is a strangely lush garden, full of flowers and plants and berries. When he gets close enough, he slows, arms crossed and shoulders slightly hunched, eyes darting around the area for his housemate. Galen knows he's here, somewhere.

He swallows, clears his throat quietly. "Ned?"

Re: Day 60

[nedofpies]

When he hears his name called, Ned realizes that he now knows Galen well enough to recognize him by voice alone, which is kind of nice. What isn't kind of nice is the stab of fear that follows, unbidden. He pushes it down; he knew this was going to have to happen, one of these days. Ned had no intentions of initiating it himself, so he's glad that Galen has seen fit to do so.

"I'm here," he answers, from a few feet away, hidden by a curtain of honeysuckle and morning glories. The air is sweet with the smell of growing things, the sun shining. It doesn't seem quite the right setting, for the conversation that Ned expects is to follow. His body language is similar to Galen's: hunched, defensive, arms folded across his chest tightly. Ned's back is to a tree, and it's a small comfort. He feels rooted, safer.

When Galen comes into view Ned glances up at him automatically, but pales visibly upon looking at his face, looking away quickly and not quite suppressing a shiver. He mentally berates himself for his complete lack of subtlety and ability to lie with his body language.

"How are you?" No need to be impolite.

[gleans]

The worst part about this change is that he can sense, acutely, when people are scared. It's not that he's surprised that Ned is afraid, but being reminded this sharply makes him feel a little ill. It's easy to forget that what he did that night was because of the mare thing, not the corruption he brought upon himself, and for a second, he feels like he did with Jesse, just after his hospital stay.

"I'm... I've been a lot better," he says plainly, shrugging his already hunched shoulders. He wants to compliment the flowers, or make small talk, or find some way to show that he's still the same Galen he chatted with about music and meeting Jesse, but he feels like that would be dishonest. They both know what happened. And Galen has to fix it.

"How -- are you... okay?" After all of that.

Day 61

[shesamarshmallow]

Day one, she'd been okay. Day two, she'd managed. Day three, hard as hell. And she'd lost track of days. It didn't help that she tended to sleep through them. She hadn't wandered around at night so much in months. But here she was, following a trail of plants that she suspected would lead to food. Or somewhere.

She couldn't break into a house, though. Not if she was a vampire. She couldn't do it that someone else. But she had to do something, go somewhere. She was starving, but she wasn't hungry for food. She had to get out of there, away from the heartbeats and the scent of people.

She's followed the trail into the woods before she realizes what a mistake this might be. She can hear a heartbeat. And before she can stop herself, she's at the man's side, watching him sleep, and the sound of his blood coursing through his veins would make her mouth water if she weren't so parched.

"Um. Hi." She sets a hand on his chest. How is she supposed to do this? She's never bitten someone before.

But hey, she just felt her incisors growing, so however she does it, she'll be doing it with a lisp. That's good to know.

"I'm Veronica. I'll be vamping on you today."

That sounded as good as anything. And holy Count Chocula, did a jugular ever look so good?

[nedofpies]

Ned has not been sleeping very soundly, these past few days. He wakes up instantly at Veronica's touch. It's probably a sign of just how much Ned has been through in the past few days that, when he opens his eyes to see a young girl with fangs looming over him, saying she is going to feed on him, his reaction is surprise rather than complete terror.

Before Veronica can move in any closer he holds a hand up between them, talking very rapidly, "Hi Veronica I'm Ned it's nice to meet you do you mind holding on a minute before you do that?" Hey, it's worth a shot, at least this one introduced herself and give him some warning before chomping down. He doesn't pause for a response, though, wanting to get all this out now in case she's not really in a patient mood, "Just- just two things. I'm okay with you vamping on me because I've got weird healing powers right now anyway but don't take too much okay? And also you should probably know there's a significant likelihood my blood is going to make you wasted because it kind of already did exactly that to the last vampire that came by."

Yeah, she heard him right, the last vampire. Because apparently this is a thing he does, now.

[shesamarshmallow]

Words. Words words words. She's usually better with words than this.

Wait.

Last vampire?

Her eyes unable to look away from his neck, she half reaches out, half holds up a finger. It results in a pointing wave toward the general vicinity of his neck.

"So wait. If I drink from you, you're totally cool with it and I'll get flat off my ass drunk?"

There were things to both like and dislike about this news. Mostly dislike.

Late evening, day 60, I think

[manofiron]

He shouldn’t be out here. Deep, deep down beneath the all-consuming thirst, where there are still the remnants of a rational mind, Tony knows that he shouldn’t be here. He should be far removed from the town, buried in the woods until the smell of leaves and dirt and animal fur blocks out the scent of the people sleeping inside the flimsy protection of wooden houses. But he has no more hope of staying away than he does of willing his heart to beat again.

What he wants is there, flowing in tiny, secret channels hidden with the flesh of others. He wants it so badly that his teeth, razor-sharp for piercing the flesh and ferreting out its buried treasure, ache with it, and the remembered taste sits heavy and tantalizing on his tongue: thick and electric, with the coppery tang of the tiny bits of metal.

Metal. Always metal. Like the metal he wore and the cold, useless thing in his chest that he still hasn’t pried out. It’s like an heirloom, like a reminder, and the tiny, infinitesimal part of him that hasn’t given up on hope knows that he can’t take it out. There’s no telling if or when they’ll regain their true forms, and without it, he’ll be dead.

Dead like he is now. Dead like his prey will be when he reaches them. And soon he shall, for he’s circled ever closer to the unsuspecting town, each wide, sweeping arc of his thoughts drawing him in until he’s close enough that he can leave the trees for the town proper. He shouldn’t be here. He knows he needs to go back. Go away. Before he loses control. Before he kills.

But Tony isn’t listening to that quiet, fading voice of reason. He’s listening to the hunger racing through his body and turning his veins to fire. He’s listening to the grating of his teeth and the predatory thoughts slowly overwriting his mind.

He’s hungry. So very hungry. And dinner is about to be served.

[nedofpies]

Ned is back in his orchard. He has been here since Galen left, lost in a trance. He is sitting cross-legged on the grass, a froth of night-bloom flowers around him, hands buried a few inches into the soil, his whole attention focused on the trees. He is making them grow. There is a certain joy in it, losing all awareness of his own body, thinking only about the stretching branches, the apples growing heavier, the roots extending downwards into the earth. Ned doesn't notice the sun setting around him, is unaware of the sounds of insects and the noises from the nearby houses fading.

He is a sitting duck.

Late 58 to very early 59

[nedofpies]

[continued from here]

Ned is only just keeping himself together. He hears River laughing, exultant and happy at his side. Their fingers are knitted together tightly, hers strangely rough and bark-like, his white-knuckled with fear. For now he focuses on just running, putting one foot in front of another and getting as far away from that house as he can.

When they reach the bower he stops, turns on the spot and without warning hugs River fiercely. He stoops down to bury his face in her shoulder, eyes shut as he says a shuddering, "Thank you."

He doesn't let go or loosen his hold one bit. He needs to reassure himself that she's here, that the two of them got out alive, that safe. "Thank you thank you so much."

[enchangement]

Of course the moment Ned grabs her she wraps her arms around him tight, swaying them both in place. Now that they're far, far from house nineteen she feels worried all over again; he seems fine but people bleeding internally seem fine and she's very limited at figuring it out. Being a tree spirit and all.

So the moment she can pry herself out of that hug even just a little bit she is going to, kissing Ned on the cheek and then giving him a once over, hissing angrily at the bruises on his neck. "You're not a shiny to be collected and hoarded." Giving Charlie a concussion was too good for him, clearly, she should've at least broken a few bones.

"We're family. Don't feel bad." She knows he will anyway, but still. "Almost hale and mostly whole, see?" Her burn scar, she means, which is still rapidly fading. "You do that."