kore_logs | [open] apples and quinces, lemons and oranges

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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'll be alright."

There it is again: Ned's automatic response to the concern of others. It's just that side of a no, an acknowledgement that everything is not alright now, but it's buried in a reassurance that whatever it is that's going on, he'll be able to manage it on his own without help or intervention. Just one of those remnants of being on his own for so long, keeping people at arm's length. He's used to deflecting questions, does it as instinctively as breathing. It's not that he doesn't trust Jesse, specifically; he's simply new to the business of having friends.

Besides, he doesn't know if Jesse knows what Galen's become, or whether Galen wants him to know. Even now, when he's not feeling particularly rosy towards the guy, Ned isn't gonna rat him out.

But even moreso than the last time he used this line on Jesse, it's pretty clear that, while he seems certain of being fine in the future, fine isn't what he is now. Ned is hardly a great deceiver at the best of times, and lack of sleep has stripped away any dissembling ability he might have possessed. He shivers, crosses his arms tightly over his chest, tries (and fails) not to think about why he's hasn't slept for more than a quarter of an hour or so at a time since their little transformations took place. Thinking about it makes him remember it, and remembering it is not conducive to... anything, really.

Then it occurs to him that maybe Jesse asked for a reason. Maybe he wasn't just worried about Ned, but looking for someone to confide in or consult. Who's to say that he didn't have a similar experience? He could be looking for someone to talk to about it. Ned might have a difficult time accepting concern for himself, but he has more than enough for the people around him.

"What about you?" he asks, "Have you... slept alright, these last few days?"

Maybe Jesse frowns a little. He gets the need to take care of yourself by yourself - he really, really does - so he doesn't try to push too hard when it comes to this sort of thing. Still. He wants Ned to know he isn't alone in this sort of thing, especially when it comes to nightmares, and even more when it comes to Galen and nightmares.

He's trying to figure out a way that he can offer his help or an ear or something when Ned asks him if he's slept well, and the question - well, it makes him laugh. It's maybe a little bitter.

"Mm, I ain't slept well for months, but that's a different story entirely. Or - y'know, maybe not, really, but." He won't tell Galen's story, that's for Galen to do. But he can press in the way of current events. "Your dreams real bad lately? Don't lie, man, you're really shit at it."

It's clear from Jesse's persistence, and his level of specificity, that he must have some idea of what's been going on. Probably a better one than Ned has, all things considered. He reminds himself of what Jesse said a few days ago, that he'd have Ned's back if there was any trouble, and he thinks maybe it will be alright if he tells the truth.

"You could say that."

After what Jesse said about not sleeping well for months it's a little easier for him to talk about this. "I mean I've always had nightmares," he says, quietly, matter-of-factly. It's clear that he doesn't just mean your run-of-the-mill, regular amount of bad dreams.

Ned rubs a hand along the back of his neck, not looking at Jesse. "But this was different." For one thing, Ned can recall the details of his dream in vivid clarity. They did not fade into a haze of unspecified terror, the way many of them did, after an hour or two. The dream he'd had two nights ago remains crystal clear in his mind.

He's managed to him himself from sleeping long enough to dream since then, but Jesse is right: it's starting to take a toll on him. He probably wouldn't have made it this long, to be honest, if it weren't for his weird, unspecified vitality powers.

No, Jesse gets it, and he meant it when he said he had Ned's back. Especially now, more, because he's sure that this has to do with Galen. He keeps his gaze on Ned as he talks, ignoring the fact that he doesn't look up.

Always had nightmares. So it probably made it easier to feed off of. Jesse had had the whole mare thing explained to him - but even with that, he can remember Galen getting all sorts of power trips from the nightmares that he caused in other people. Jesse's expression is just the slightest bit sour.

But he tones that down so he can try to catch Ned's gaze. "Different, yeah. You don't gotta tell me what happened in it, but - what was different?"

Ned's glad that Jesse doesn't want to know the details, because one of the worst things about the whole experience is wondering if Galen saw what was in his head: saw and remembered. Maybe (and Ned is praying that this is true) it's like Jesse turning into a wolf. Maybe Galen has turned into this thing and when he turns back into himself, he'll have forgotten all of it. If that's the case, Ned thinks, he'll be able to forgive him without a second thought and move on. He probably would have been having some kind of nightmare, anyway.

But if he does remember, it's going to be a different story.

Ned really doesn't want to get Galen in trouble, but at the same time, it's getting harder and harder not to just tell the truth. He wishes he could confide in someone, and Jesse is already here, asking. There is a long, heavy silence before he speaks, looking resolutely down at his hands.

"Different was... someone was in my head, watching it. Causing it, I think, or at least making it worse." Ned bites the inside of his lip. His voice is only just audible now. "Different was waking up with Galen on top of me."

See, he doesn't mean to, there's the thing. But after Kenzi and Galen's whole thing - and with the way the wolf is right under the surface like it is, it's near impossible for Jesse to stop himself from reacting the way he does. Waking up with Galen on top of me gets under his skin and he lets out a loud, dangerous snarl, eyes flashing yellow as he sort of lurches forward and stops right up in Ned's face in a show of intimidation. It's instinctive, possessive.

A beat. Two. Then he shakes his head and scoots back quickly.

"... Fuck, sorry," Jesse apologizes hastily, pulling his hood up over his face. "Sorry, that wasn't - on top of you? Y'wanna maybe explain a little more?"

Ned hadn't been frightened of the wolf, but this is different. This is Jesse getting angry, Jesse snarling, Jesse moving into his space. For a second, Ned is certain Jesse's going to attack him, hurt him. He thinks that he should have just kept his fucking mouth shut. Of course Jesse was going to react this way. Ned is just some person throwing accusations at his boyfriend.

The sleep deprivation and the almost constant-peril of the last few days are conspiring to make Ned paranoid and borderline histrionic. He thinks that at least now he is going to learn from his mistake. Now Ned knows that being honest with Jesse while he's this wolf-thing isn't safe. That he was wrong to trust him.

Somewhere beneath all the fear, he starts to feel anger boiling. It's not his fault Galen attacked him while he was sleeping. It's not his fault Jesse can't control his temper. But that doesn't matter, because he's just the guy who makes flowers with his hands, and that isn't going to win him any fights.

When Jesse apologizes and pulls away, Ned doesn't know what to do. What will make Jesse more likely to get violent: explaining, or refusing to answer. Eventually he decides the latter and says, "H-he was in the nightmare. I saw him there. And then when I woke up he was in my room, kind of p-pinning me down and... t-touching my face and my hair I guess. Then he saw I was awake and disappeared in a puff of weird smoke." Ned doesn't think it's a good idea to mention how close he'd gotten, how he seemed to be feeding, to be enjoying all that fear.

Now that he's said this much, before Jesse can ask him anything more, Ned tries to mitigate the damage, to placate him. "I'm sorry, I s-shouldn't've brought it up, just... just pretend I didn't say anything, okay, it's not a big deal, I won't tell anyone else, and I'm not coming b-back there anytime soon so it's not a problem."

He immediately feels terrible for doing it, and Ned's reaction to him makes Jesse curl away further, an almost literal dog with his tail behind his legs. He just needs to tamp down the wolf. It's hard, though, with all of his senses on overdrive, with the combination of seeing Kenzi and Galen, hurting Kenzi, being stuck, the knowledge that Galen is eating nightmares - it has him on edge.

Jesse huddles down as much he can, pulling the cardigan ~~not the hoodie~~ closer. Maybe if he tries to look as small as possible he'll be less threatening. He's quiet, at least, until Ned says he's not coming back, and Jesse can't just let that go.

"Hey - hey, no," Jesse protests, but he doesn't reach, like he normally would. He's a little afraid of himself. "No, I - I ain't mad, look, m'sorry. I knew already. It ain't the first time there's been trouble with Galen and nightmares, alright, I just - I know." He doesn't quite mean to say so much (and his expression, just a little haunted and a little scared, tells more than his words) but it doesn't matter now. It's out.

"Don't - don't tell anybody else, but I told you afore - like, afore I got all fuckin' wolf at you, that I couldn't help - that I was lookin' out for you, and you being out here in the cold ain't looking out very well. S'your house too, and - and me n' Kenzi are gonna take care of the nightmare thing." He digs his nails into his legs, hoping that helps at all. He doubts it. Ned's skittish as it is.

Ned is taken aback by the revelation that apparently, this isn't a new thing. He'd been under the impression that Galen was, well, normal. That he and Jesse were from a version of the world where magic didn't exist, where everything was rock bands and unexpected love stories. It seems he was wrong.

And from the way Jesse says that he knows, the look on his face, Ned can't help but think that Galen's hurt him, before. The way he hurt Ned last night. That, more than Jesse's apology, changes his attitude, banishes the fear in favor of something a little more complicated.

"What do you mean, take care of it?" he asks, cautiously. He thinks he has the right to know that, at least, before he even considers returning.

The two of them really try their hardest to make sure their world seems that way. The problem is the wounds are still fresh, and the reminders keep popping up, from the hallucinations to now, so it gets difficult, sometimes. But Jesse sighs and reaches up to tangle his fingers into his unruly hair.

"He eats the nightmares, right?" Jesse says wearily. "So we're gonna be his food. Or at least, I'm gonna, I dunno 'bout Kenzi, but I assume she's gonna, too. So nobody else has gotta."

"...you don't wanna do that." Ned knows the situation is different, will be different. Jesse and Galen are close - trust one another, presumably. Jesse will know what is happening, will have given his permission to let it happen. At the same time, he remembers the fear, and he can't stomach the thought of Jesse putting himself through that. He wants to look out for Jesse, too.

But then, what alternative do any of them have? Apparently what Galen had been doing to him was eating (he can join the club, Ned thinks), and letting him starve is doubtless not an option. But Ned doesn't want him making this decision without being properly informed.

"Jesse it was..." Ned swallows, knits his hands together in his lap. "Before you agree to do that you should know, it was pretty bad."

Understatement.

It gets a somewhat bitter laugh out of him, and he rubs at the back of his neck, shaking his head. Yeah, understatement.

"Yeah, no, I know," Jesse sighs, and he just flops back onto the ground, tired. He remembers - and he knows if Galen gets hungry, he's going to be amping up the nightmares. They'll involve his father, Jesse's sure, they'll involve the dog and dark, deep things that Jesse doesn't like to think about. But he'd rather take it than let someone else have to go through it. He's already been through it once, it won't be so bad. Right?

"I know how bad it can get. But better me than someone who ain't prepared for it." Jesse looks up at Ned, eyes flashing yellow from where he's laid out.

What Jesse says confirms Ned's suspicion; Galen has done this sort of thing to Jesse before, and Jesse is willingly signing up for another round. Ned wants to think of it as romantic, as noble, as Jesse sacrificing a part of his happiness to keep his boyfriend and everyone else safe and happy. But at the same time, he is unsettled by it. By the precedent it indicates is in place.

"I hate this," Ned murmurs. He braces his hands on the ground at his sides and up spring weeds, stickseeds and sandburrs, goosegrass and poison oak. He doesn't seem to notice. There ought to be some way. Some alternative. Jesse shouldn't need to suffer - there ought to be a solution where no one is hurt. His inability to fix it rankles at Ned. "I hate not being able to help. You shouldn't have to-" Ned heaves a sigh. Lamenting the situation and his own uselessness isn't going to make any difference. It's just more annoying complaining.

It's a little romantic, and it's a little self-destructive, but that's basically Jesse's entire personality. He couldn't get away from it if he tried.

The sprouting of flowers makes Jesse jump a little, and - well, he sneezes again, turning his head so he doesn't sneeze directly on Ned's hands. When he turns back, he sighs as well, wrinkling his nose. "Nobody should have to, but. Yeah. S'the way it is."

Jesse looks up at Ned again, and then pulls himself back up to a sitting position. "Look, hey - m'sorry y'had to go through that. Ain't right. And you can help plenty by not sleepin' out here, 'cause Galen feels awful about it."

"But it's nice out here," Ned protests. "It's not just the thing with Galen. I mean... some of it is. But I think part of it's all this." He gestures at the den of flowers all around him. "I don't much like being inside." Shrugging, Ned offers Jesse a small smile. "And if it helps, you can tell him that." He doesn't want Galen to feel awful, but he isn't ready to come back, yet.

Well, alright. Jesse thinks he can understand that hint. Jesse sniffs, rubs at his nose - and sneezes. God, it sucks to really like flowers and then have allergies from hell. Jesse groans exaggeratedly and flops out.

"Yeah. S'nice out," Jesse agrees. Don't mind him, he's ignoring the urge to roll around in the dirt. "Man. You know, I think you got something real cool that you can do right now. Like, you grow flowers and y'don't gotta worry about - accidentally eating a rabbit or something." Here, he'll change the subject, but he's not quite ready to leave Ned out here alone yet.

Ned is more than happy to talk about something a little less fraught. "Sorry about the pollen," he says with a smile, thinking that Jesse sneezes similarly as a human and as a wolf. He lays down, too, hands behind his head, looking up into the trees and the overhanging canopy of flowers.

When Jesse voices his concern over eating a rabbit, Ned wrinkles his nose in disgust and sympathy. Even though he knows he could, if he wanted, eat rabbit now without any power-related complications, the idea is still repulsive. Eating meat's pretty much always going to seem unbearably gross to him.

"I guess that'd only be natural for a wolf," Ned speculates, with a sigh. "Can you change intentionally? Or does it just kinda happen?"

Jesse waves his hand at the apology for the pollen. It doesn't usually bother him badly enough, there's just a lot of it. With another sniff, he peers over at Ned.

"Both. I mean, mostly it's just happened so far, when I - get mad. But when I was with Galen earlier I turned back human after thinking about it real hard." He shrugs. "I'm getting control over it slowly. I only got like, real vague memories of being a wolf, though, like - pretty sure I actually did eat a rabbit."

Eurgh. He makes a face. "You run into anybody else out here that's changed?"

In that case, Ned is glad that Jesse's brief flash of anger at him earlier had only been that. "That sounds hard. I mean, with mine, I'm sort of used to it, you know? It's easy to not touch things." At least, if you are Ned it is. That's what twenty years of practice will do. "But it's not easy to not feel things. Plus, if I slip up the worst that could happen is some unwanted snapdragons."

And that? That is glorious. Ned's used to much, much worse consequences.

When Jesse asks if he's run into anyone else out here, Ned can't help it: he bursts out laughing. Jesse may notice a tiny sliver of hysteria, in that laugh.

"I can't believe I'm actually saying this sentence, but last night I was kidnapped by what I'm fairly certain was some kind of a dragon." Again, he laughs that just-this-side-of-unhinged laugh. It's either think about how funny it sounds now and laugh or remember how traumatic it felt then and cry. "So... that's a first. Never been tied up next to a pile of shiny things before."

"What about you? You know what Kenzi's turned into?" Because Galen and Jesse and Kenzi are all friends, so he assumes Jesse will know, and he's kind of curious.

"Anything but the snapdragons," Jesse mutters, waving his hands - but the burst of laughter gets his attention, and he blinks a few times, watching Ned. He sits up at that, wrapping his arms around his knees and watching Ned with a sort of bemused look.

"A... dragon." Wat. But Ned's asking him a question, and Jesse wrinkles his nose at it. That's a sore spot, just a little, since he hasn't spoken to Kenzi about it yet. He talked to Galen, just. He sighs, and shifts around where he sits.

"Yeah, she's - uh, a vampire, I guess. I ain't talked to her." Fidget. He wishes he still had cigarettes. "I dunno, I been a wolf all day, so I don't remember so well. A dragon? Really? Like, big scaly motherfucker?"

Ned thinks he senses some tension in the way that Jesse answers his question about Kenzi, and he decides to drop it for the time being, curious as he might be. It's not his business: maybe vampires and werewolves don't get on very well, maybe it is something entirely unrelated, maybe he's imagining it.

"I met a vampire, as well. And by met I mean he took a bite out of my neck but apparently I've got healing powers." Ned rubs the place on his neck where Meyer had bitten him, which doesn't bear the slightest trace of the incident. "He helped get me out of the whole kidnapping thing. Helped get me into it, too, but that wasn't on purpose. And no, he wasn't big and scaly, that's why I said fairly certain. Maybe he was just possessed by a dragon? Anyway he looked like a normal guy, except that he kept breathing smoke from his nose and burning things with his hands and he was hoarding a big pile of gold watches and necklaces and things. And, um, me apparently."

Ned shrugs, "I just feel like anything is possible right now. You're a wolf-guy and I'm a flower-guy, so why not a dragon-guy."

It's a little touchy at the moment, and Jesse's glad Ned sort of drops it. Jesse just doesn't know if he fucked up his relationship with Kenzi or not yet, and he's got that nasty sense of guilt and shame for losing his temper building up in his chest as he thinks about it.

Instead of dwelling, he sniffs and rubs at his nose. "Hey, high five for healing powers, man," Jesse offers, and yes, he lifts his hand for a high five. Come on. Come on, just one. And then: "But yeah, I guess that makes sense. I don't look like a wolf 'til I like, lose my temper, so maybe it's the same for this dude - I wonder why he hoarded, uh. You."

A beat. "Are you actually a damsel in distress?" Because that's hilarious.

Ned can't possibly leave him hanging; he gives Jesse a high-five without complaint or hesitation. He grins - beams, even. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how happy a simple high-five can make him. That small, casual gesture of friendship and conviviality. But Ned's never really had people to high-five, has led a high-five-less existence since before he found out about his powers.

He then feels bad for mistrusting Jesse just a few minutes ago, for reacting so extremely to (what he now sees was) a very small, understandable outburst. How is he ever going to convince great guys like Jesse to stay friends with him if he is so sensitive all the time? People want to be around a guy who offers high-fives, not a guy who flinches away from them.

All of which is in his head when Jesse jokes about him being a damsel in distress.

"I'm starting to worry I might be," he says back, walking the fine line between joke and seriousness. He wants to laugh it off, to snark back in a falsetto, but it sticks in his throat. Maybe, if he were better rested, he could be able to manage it. But right now, he can't help thinking how there's some truth in that joking accusation.

"Alright, so maybe I don't fit some of the, uh, damsel parameters, strictly speaking, but-" at which point his voice falters, and he accidentally tips off that line, planting both feet firmly onto the serious side. No matter how light he tries to keep his voice, it's an obvious veneer, "-I'd say distressed is... is a pretty mild word for how I felt at the time."

He's still smiling, but there's something fragile behind it now as he shrugs, says, "I mean, I didn't know hoarding was all he had on the agenda." Ned looks down at a patch of rue, runs his fingers through it as he adds, "But, in case you haven't noticed by now, I'm not exactly the bravest guy in the world." As far as Ned's concerned, that's not the usual self-loathing talking, that's just a fact. Jesse's seen it, too. Not the worst of it, not the full-blown panic attacks, but he's seen how jumpy Ned is. Hell, the first time they'd met Ned had jumped out of his skin over a silly static shock.

It's not pathetic, or at least, Jesse wouldn't think so. While Jesse's never had a shortage of friends, he thinks he knows how it feels to feel like you need to flinch away from people. He's had his low points in his life, and he knows that what you need most, as corny as it sounds, are friends to get you through it.

Jesse rolls on his stomach so that he can get a better look at Ned as he settles right down into the serious side of things. Fragile. Don't break. Jesse keeps his head down, his eyes up, as non-threatening as possible - he doesn't quite realize he's doing it, and it's mostly the subconscious wolf, but he's listening. He's the inferior one right now.

"Man, you could be the bravest motherfucker in the world and still freak out at a dragon kidnapping you." Jesse tells Ned, eyebrows raised. "Like, between you and me, if I got carried off, I'd probably piss my pants." Whatever, dragons are scary.

This is Jesse's shitty attempt to make Ned feel better, but at least he's trying. "I mean - not everybody's gotta be brave, either. It ain't a bad thing. S'okay to be scared." Sniff. "Just saying you don't gotta beat yourself up over it. Doesn't make you any less of a like, man."

Look at Jesse, after all. He's probably terrifying looking to some people, but put him in the same room as his boyfriend and he's a squishy marshmallow.

Ned also might not be consciously aware of the non-threatening body language, but he does notice how easy it is to talk to Jesse about all this; well, comparatively easy, anyway. Jesse's attempt at humor pays off and is rewarded by a small, grateful laugh from Ned.

It means a great deal to him, what Jesse says about it being okay to be scared. "Yeah, well, you're about the only person I've met who thinks that," Ned says, but the fragility has gone from his smile, and his voice is warm again: comfortable and friendly. He wants to tell him how much it means, to say thank you, but he isn't sure how, at first.

He picks at the flowers around him, starts weaving their stems together into a chain. He's gotten quite good at it, over the last few days. It gives his hands something to do, gives him something to look at while he talks, which helps him say out loud. "Usually when I start to get to know people, it's only a matter of time until I'm their new project. You know. Let's fix Ned."

He shrugs, as if this will diminish the weight of what he's saying. Part of him can't believe he's saying it at all, thinks it is a mistake, he should quit while he's ahead. But the other part of him senses, without really knowing why, that Jesse will get it.

He ties off the end of the flower chain, sets it aside, says out of nowhere, "Thank you." He doesn't explain for what; he figures Jesse will know.

Edited 2013-04-11 01:23 (UTC)

[open] apples and quinces, lemons and oranges

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