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[open] apples and quinces, lemons and oranges
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.
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.
no subject
The alcohol helped numb his anger, but only temporarily, and now he realized it wasn't the best decision he's made. Turning around and leaning against the tree, "I'll probably regret it later when the headache kicks in." Because he's human and that's what happens after consuming large amounts of alcohol, right? Even that will be a new experience for him.
no subject
The way the Doctor slumps against the tree just looks so defeated that Ned can't go on focusing on apple trees. His mind has been fully wrenched back to the present, to the predicament that the Doctor seems to be in.
"I know I keep asking questions and you're going to think I'm nosy and rude, but did something... happen?" Ned only wants to help, if he can, and it doesn't seem out of the realm of possibility. Plenty of somethings have happened to him these last two days, and a few of them have been very not good. If the Doctor's been attacked, or hurt, or if he's hurt someone else without meaning to (perhaps some complication of the Time Lord to human transition), Ned wants to let him know he isn't the only one.
no subject
"I spent so much time on Earth, I never expected to actually become human myself. Tried it once, when I went into hiding, but all my memories were dormant. This time, they're not, and I feel rather insignificant." He realizes he's dumping alot of information on Ned, and remotely felt guilty about it. Rubbing his eyes, "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear all this nonsense."
no subject
"I guess it's hard for me to understand," he says, head tilting to one side, "I've always been different and wished I were like everyone else. So insignificant sounds like a good option, to me." He shrugs, crosses his arms. "But it doesn't sound like we're coming from the same place on this one." From the way the Doctor had said it, being a Time Lord - being the last one - is something very significant. An identity the Doctor doesn't like having taken away from him.