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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.
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"I'm guessing you're Charlie?" he blurts. "Meyer was just telling me about you. It's n-nice to meet you, I'm Ned."
He holds out a hand for Charlie to shake, his nervous smile not reaching his eyes. What the hell is he hoping to accomplish? It's unlikely that some niceties would calm the man down, discourage him from taking out what is clearly a very bad temper on his friend. But he doesn't know what else to do or say.
Their little housemate tiff doesn't explain why Charlie is giving Ned that actually quite unsettling look, though. He half-laughs, anxiously, starts to draw back his hand.
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"Yeah, that's Charlie," he says, completely abandoning the attempts not to slur his speech and sounding more drunk than ever, even as he tries to wrench out of Charlie's grip. "That's Charlie, who's probably here to take me home, because he doesn't think I can handle myself."
Normally, he's quite good at handling himself. Normally, it's him going after Charlie, trying to diffuse a situation. In this case, though, maybe Charlie's right -- after all, once he stormed out of the house, he immediately found Ned and attacked him. That wasn't a good way to manage things.
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But at the same time... whoever this Ned person is, his desire to take him home with them right the fuck now is becoming slightly over-whelming. Still keeping Meyer in a firm grip, he walks towards Ned, holding out a hand. He grips Ned's firmly before he can pull it away. "Charlie Luciano. Pleased to meet you and all that."
The smell around Ned is intoxicating - sweet and spicy and heady all at once.
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Except that Charlie hardly seems interested in Meyer. There is a casual intimacy to the way he wipes the blood off Meyer's chin, but then he turns back to Ned. Why he's so interested, Ned has absolutely no idea, but he isn't sure he likes it. Especially when, apparently he isn't allowed to have his hand back. His aversion to touch might have lessened with these new powers, but hanging on like that just isn't normal,
But then it gets even weirder; a moment later Charlie, quite undisguisedly, smells him. Not smelling any of the hundreds of flowers around them, but him.
"Um... can I... help you with something?" Which of course is polite Ned-speak for what the hell is wrong with you.
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"Charlie, c'mon, I'm not drunk," is the only protest he manages to give. He's halfheartedly attempting to wrench his arm out of Charlie's grasp, then looking at Ned with an apologetic shrug. He can't seem to break free -- which should concern him, since despite his relatively short stature, he can generally go toe to toe with Charlie in any kind of physical altercation -- and he doesn't know what the hell Charlie's up to.
"What are you doing? Don't smell him. He tastes good, but don't..."
Had he said that out loud? He feared he had. But why would Charlie care? He's not a vampire. He won't be eating him.
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He lets go of Meyer at last, but only so he can wrench Ned closer, and get him around the neck one-handed. Charlie's hands are warm - warmer than anyone's should be, and his grip is inhumanly strong. He smells him again, more obvious this time.
"You already tasted this, Meyer? I don'ts fucking blame you." He certainly smells good enough to eat. "You're coming homes with us, buddy."
Hand still firm around Ned's neck, he gives a strong jerk, moving him back towards their house.
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Newly-discovered healing powers aside, Ned really really doesn't like this. He doesn't trust Charlie's intentions, on any number of levels. Doesn't really trust Meyer, either, when it comes down to it. He's starting to regret not heading back to the house for the night. Horrifying nightmares were horrifying, sure, but at least they didn't involve him getting eaten alive. Which is what he's pretty sure is going to happen, just now. Ned might be generous and like feeding people, but this is taking it way too far.
Unfortunately, Charlie seems to have acquired the super-strength that Meyer lacks, and he doesn't dare struggle. Not when Charlie is effortlessly hauling him by the throat, grip so tight that Ned can only just breathe. He has a feeling that Charlie could snap his neck in a second without even trying, and it sends a cold chill down his spine. Could he even heal from that? A broken neck is more than a little puncture wound. Who knows how extensive his powers might be? So, whole body shaking with fear, he doesn't struggle, doesn't hit Charlie or scratch him or any of the million things his instincts are screaming at him to try. What he does try is the same tactic he used on Meyer: perhaps it will be effective a second time.
"W-wait, listen," Ned's voice, constricted along with his air-flow, is high and desperate, "you d-don't want to do this! Try to... try t-to think... "
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There's only one thing he knows how to do in a situation like this, and that's negotiate. It seems that Ned has the same idea, but he's not sure Ned's negotiations will be effective. Charlie is obviously singleminded in his focus on dragging Ned home, and doing... whatever it is he wants to do to him. Meyer doesn't want to think about that. It doesn't look as though it'll turn out well.
He reaches out a hand to Charlie's shoulder, knowing that he has to be careful. He'd already injured Ned once today; he doesn't need Charlie killing him. "Charlie," he manages, "Charlie, think about it. You can... you can take him home. You can take him home. Just don't hurt him, okay? You're holding him too tightly. C'mon. Let's go home."
He shoots Ned a desperate look, still unsteady on his feet. He hates this, he hates feeling powerless, and he hates whatever Charlie's become. He knows that if he tries to get in between the two of them physically, though, Charlie will simply shove him aside.
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He loosens the grip on Ned's neck, just a little, but gets his arm in a half-nelson instead. "I don't reckon I need your permission, Meyer." He lets out another billow of smoke through his nose, by Ned may notice that the temperature of his hand is cooling down slightly. Still hot, but not outside the realm of human possibility.
"Yeah, we're going home. That's what I came out here for in the first place. Make sure you weren't eating anyone." And if he picked up something shiny and new for his stash at the same time, hey bonus. He lets go of Ned's neck at last, but hands still firm on his arms as he gives him another shove to keep walking.
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But no, who is he kidding? There's no way that's all this is. That wouldn't explain the weird, intensely creepy smelling. Wouldn't explain the odd, jealous possessiveness. Ned remembers, incongruously, what Meyer had said about Charlie stealing shiny things and stashing them away. Is he registering as a shiny thing, somehow? And why the hell is Charlie breathing smoke?
He's glad to be able to breathe again, even if it does hurt having his arm wrenched behind his back like that. Ned turns to look at Meyer, and right now, he doesn't have any pity for his stumbling, his helplessness, his look of ineffective apology. Ned mouths 'HELP ME' at him. Why wasn't he even trying?
Ned knows why, of course. Their spat aside, Charlie is his friend, his business partner, someone he's known his whole life. Ned is just some hapless, unfortunately tasty guy he's had a couple of conversations with. Maybe he's planning on having another little meal, when they get to where they are going.
Just when Ned thinks things can't possibly get worse, he realizes that, even though Charlie let go of his neck, it's starting to get hard to breathe. He absolutely does not have the time for a panic attack right now, he thinks, but his body has plans of its own. He keeps walking, hanging his head and trying to gasp for air as quietly as he can. At one point, his knees are knocking so badly that they give out, and he stumbles, nearly falls, catches himself.
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The sad thing was, Meyer agreed. Ned had been pretty tasty. That didn't mean he thought Charlie should actually eat the guy, though. He, too, remembers the fact that Charlie seemed obsessed with his watch, that he'd had to have it, that after he'd taken it, he'd disappeared into the backyard with it. Maybe Charlie thinks Ned is some kind of prize, too.
"Charlie," he says, his voice stronger this time, not slurring. "He's scared. You're scaring him." This time, he even reaches out a hand to put on Charlie's shoulder, not hard, not threatening, just very cold hand with a gentle touch. "We need to talk about this. Think about this. Let's just get him back to the house, and then we'll have a conversation, okay?"
At this point, he just wants to buy Ned some time. He hopes his glance over at Ned indicates that. He wants to help him. He's trying. But it's going to take some finesse, and right now, he's still trying to remember how to get that finesse back.
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He turns to face Ned again, sees the way he's gasping for air and barely staying on his feet. Well, he's not trying to hurt him, and it's not his fault if the guy isn't co-operating to being taken home. He isn't burning as brightly now, through all the fear, but the strong, un-ignorable knowledge that everything will be fine if he just gets him home is too hard to ignore.
The house is in sight now, and he gives Ned another push towards it.
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He doesn't have time to dwell on the apparent effect his emotions have on his power, however. Not when Charlie is talking about having his fun with Ned, and his stomach is twisting itself into knots with a fear so strong it makes him nauseous. As he stumbles into the house he wonders if this is another nightmare, screws his eyes shut and wills himself to wake up. Any second now he will wake up.
But he doesn't.
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Okay, so maybe there was a part of it that was kind of... well, he wouldn't use the word fun, exactly, but exhilarating. Intoxicating, certainly. Regardless, he doesn't like the idea of the kind of fun Charlie has in mind, especially not when Charlie's skin burns hot under his touch. He moves his hand away from Charlie's shoulder, knowing he's pushing his luck, knowing he has to stay calm enough to help all of them -- to help Ned get out of this mess unharmed, to help himself make up for what he did to Ned in the first place, and to help Charlie avoid doing something he'll regret later.
As they go into the house, he tries to think. If only he had a goddamned cigarette, he'd be thinking a lot more clearly now. "What's your plan? What're you gonna do with him?"
If he can find out what Charlie wants to do, what his goal is, maybe he can talk him into something else.
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"Sit down," he says, giving Ned a shove so that he's leaning against the radiator. "The plan is I need some rope. I knows we got some in the closet." He hasn't really thought about much of a plan beyond that. He doesn't think there really is one. It's the same with the gold - he doesn't want to do anything with any of it. Just make sure it's his.
He switches to Yiddish for the first time, somehow it was always a signal of theirs. "I'm not gonna eat him. Are you helping or not?"
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They're going to have to talk whether or not they tie Ned up, but Meyer goes to the closet to get the length of rope out, and grudgingly brings it back to Charlie. "You want me to do it? He's scared of you. This'll just make it worse."
And if he's the one doing the tying up, then maybe he can make the ropes loose enough that Ned can escape. Maybe. Charlie might notice that.
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Especially like this, bound and waiting for him. He can't help but let his hands linger on the bits of exposed skin around Ned's wrists, oddly gentle now after all the roughness earlier. All the anger and anxiety he was feeling is dying down into a calm peacefulness. Maybe later he'll get that urge again, to collect and bring back, but for now he'd love nothing more than to get out his gold and curl up on his bed and look at everything, perfectly content.
Once Ned's all tied up, he sits back on his haunches to admire his handiwork, as a few contented curls of smoke snake from his nose.
"Stay here with him. I gotta get the rest of my stuff." Keeping it all so far away suddenly seems like a bad idea, but how did he know he would find something as good as this? He gives Meyer and warning glance, and heads out of the room towards the back door.
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He nods in response to Charlie's statement, and as soon as he leaves the room, he's crouching down beside Ned, looking at him intently. He's thankful, at least, that Ned isn't badly injured, and that he doesn't seem to have any kind of bloodlust anymore. His sobriety seems to have returned, too, and he's no longer shaky.
"He's not going to eat you."
That seemed like the most important thing to say, the most salient fact. "I don't know why he's doing this, or what he thinks he's going to gain from it, but he told me he's not going to eat you. I'm going to find a way to get you out of here, okay? You're might just have to sit tight for a little while."
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He shuts his eyes again when Charlie draws close, tying his wrists tightly. Ned flinches away from his touch, though it isn't as if there's anywhere to go. Charlie's fingers are burning hot, and that is when he starts praying. He doesn't stop, even when Charlie leaves to fetch his torture instruments or whatever the hell it is. He only stops when Meyer starts speaking to him in that hushed voice, offering him hollow reassurances that he's sure are lies. Even if it's true that he's not going to eat him, Ned's pretty sure that whatever he has on the agenda, he's not gonna like it.
"Don't you fucking tell me to sit tight!" Ned spits, looking up suddenly, eyes narrowed with anger that's bordering on hate. He knows he shouldn't provoke him, but he can't help it. This is all Meyer's fault. He'd been just fine until he'd stumbled by and attacked Ned and brought him to the attention of his even more psychotic friend. He wrenches his against the rope, but it is far too tight for him to get lose. Then the anger is gone as quickly as it came, and Ned pleads, "Just untie me. I'll go out a window. I'll hide, I'll..."
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All the same, he doesn't like the position he's been put in, either. Charlie is his best friend, his business partner, and doesn't like to have to second guess him. He doesn't know Ned, not really, but he knows that what's happening here is bizarre. He can't just let him go -- that would make things with Charlie far worse.
"I need you to appreciate, Ned, what a tenuous position I'm in here. I want to let you go, I really do..." If he's not telling the truth, his poker face is pretty damn good; he looks genuine, honest, deeply concerned. "I can't just let you go. In a small town like this, Charlie'd track you down again in a second. We need to go about this in a different way."
He begins to loosen one of the ropes slightly, not enough that Charlie will notice it, but enough to perhaps provide some slight comfort to Ned. "I understand that you're angry. I'd be angry, too. I am angry, at everything that's going on here. I'm going to get you out of this, but you need to listen to me -- I've been in situations like this before, okay? I've been where you are."
That, at least, wasn't untrue. "And I know that Charlie's highly distractible. I'll talk him out of... whatever he has in mind."
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"Okay," Ned says, nodding fervently, and it's clear from the tightness of words that he's only barely fending off tears. He's absolutely not going to cry, he tells himself. He doesn't really have any other options at this point, so he decides to put his hope in Meyer, that he knows what he's doing, that he's telling the truth, that he'll make it alright. "Okay. I trust you." And then, because he really doesn't trust him, Ned adds, "If do you get me out I'll let you feed on me. As much as you like, until you turn back, as long as it doesn't kill me. Just please don't let him hurt me."
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But that's problematic, too, because he doesn't want to get angry and lose his cool. He needs to stay calm, so that Ned stays calm, so that he can get him out of this situation. And he needs to talk to Charlie, as soon as possible, to talk him out of doing something awful to Ned or to talk him into letting Ned go, either way. What use do they have for kidnapping someone?
"I'm not going to let him hurt you."
His tone is firm there. He can stop Charlie from doing something stupid. Or at least, he could when Charlie was fully human.
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Charlie is back in the doorway, a large canvas bag in one hand that is jingling softly. He was nervous about leaving Ned with Meyer, after all Meyer ate him once before who's to say he wouldn't try to finish him off? And he isn't any good to him dead.
He comes in closer, winds one hand around the back of Meyer's neck. His fingers are burning, and he blows out a plume of smoke into Meyer's face.
"I really wanna trust you rights now, Meyer. But I ain't letting you take anything of mine. Got it?" He gives him a warning shake, and then lets go. After all, the contents of his bag are far more important.
He reaches in and starts laying out all his possessions in a loose semi-circle around Ned. It's a random assortment of gold and silver and jewels, many of them unfamiliar. Charlie's obviously been busy today. A few more watches, some silverwear, a few gold rings, two tie stick pins. It's not very much yet, but he's working on it. Besides, he found such a great addition to his hoard today that he doesn't mind at all that it's relatively small. He has plenty of time to work on it.
Once it's laid out, he sits back on his haunches again to inspect it all.
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So, breathing smoke. Some kind of fire spirit or creature, something to do with fire? What other clues does he have? Charlie apparently doesn't have quite this much of a temper most of the time, according to what Meyer'd said, or such a zeal for kidnapping hapless strangers. Ned watches him pouring out the sack, sees him lovingly arranging the items. They aren't just shiny things - they are expensive ones. Gems and precious metals, in various guises. A hoard. The way he said anything of mine - that greediness was the key, wasn't it? He doesn't even see Ned as a person, just a thing for his collection.
Ned glances up at Charlie fearfully, staying very still, not wanting to attract his attention any more than he has to. Something about the way he is sitting there, making sure everything is present and correct, looming over all of it with a strange intensity, makes Ned think of storybooks, of dragons in caves resting on mountains of gold coins. But Charlie is a human being, or at least, mostly human shaped. He couldn't possibly be-
But then, what is and isn't possible, in the place right now? Perhaps he's some kind of hybrid, or else possessed by a dragon. Apparently possession by demons was possible, so why not possession by something else.
Hesitant, unsure whether he should go for flattery or continued silence, Ned says shakily, "That's quite an impressive collection, Charlie."
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"Yeah, Charlie, that's a great collection you've got there."
He manages to keep most of the sarcasm out of his voice, but it's difficult. Sure, he gets that Charlie's been collecting shiny things, expensive things, but why Ned? Maybe he can ask. Maybe it's as simple as that. Unless, of course, Charlie doesn't understand why he's doing it himself.
"You want to explain to me why you needed to have Ned as part of your collection?"
If you learn why someone's doing something, sometimes you can talk them out of it. That's his theory, at least. He doesn't relish the idea of physically fighting Charlie, not now when Charlie can so easily burn him.
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