nedofpies: (| strawberry)
nedofpies ([personal profile] nedofpies) wrote in [community profile] kore_logs2013-04-06 12:31 am

[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.
thezerothlaw: (stare)

[personal profile] thezerothlaw 2013-04-11 04:24 am (UTC)(link)
Daneel clings to Ned out of reflex while he chokes and sputters on a mouthful of seawater. He breathes, hard, feeling sick; salt sits uneasily on the stomach, he's discovering.

"There is water in my nose," he tells Ned -- which is probably besides the point, but it's uncomfortable and it stings and it feels like his head is full of salty water. "I don't believe I'm injured."

He just got saved. He might have been able to right himself, but he knows he can't swim. Daneel looks at Ned in astonishment and gratitude. "Ned. Thank you."
thezerothlaw: (concerned)

[personal profile] thezerothlaw 2013-04-11 05:13 am (UTC)(link)
"You are not at fault," Daneel protests. It was nothing more than bad luck, an unfortunate step in rough water. "I still don't know the limits of my human body. I swallowed some water. I hope that will cause no permanent harm. It was distasteful."

Still, it would probably be for the best if Lydia didn't hear of this. She had been so worried for him.

"I am very wet." And cold, too; he's beginning to shiver a little in the wind.
thezerothlaw: (thinking)

[personal profile] thezerothlaw 2013-04-11 02:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Walking has warmed him up a little, but a hot shower does sound beneficial, as well as being one more interesting experiment. Perhaps he had a close call, and perhaps not, but no harm came of it, and that's what matters.

"Yes," Daneel says, and he's smiling back. "Thank you for the flowers, and the pie. It has been... instructive."

How to properly say goodbye? Rather hesitantly, Daneel offers his hand to shake.