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

Entry tags:

[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.

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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)

There's something here, something that strikes Jesse as familiar. Maybe it's the way Ned waves off his problems, or maybe it's what he says, about people trying to fix him. He does get it. Before - before Galen, really, there were people always trying to change who he was. So Jesse understands.

It's why he just grins when Ned thanks him.

"You're welcome, man," Jesse tells him, pleased with himself. It's not often that he actually gets people to smile like this. It's a nice feeling. "S'like that one - fuck, I dunno, I think it's a Dr. Seuss quote. 'Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind'?"

Jesse laughs a little. It's corny, but whatever. "I figure I'm just as fucked up as everybody else, so I ain't got a leg t'stand on. So yeah. No problem."

Surprise, Jesse: Ned has an infinite capacity to tolerate (nay even a predilection for) corniness. He hasn't heard that particular quotation before, and it's a little simplistic for all occasions, but he rather likes the sentiment behind it. Particularly now that there are people in the latter category. Ned's never had people who don't mind, and he's quickly realizing what a difference it makes. Perhaps it is because it's starting to seem that no one in the Cape is normal. They are their own little colony of fucked up people, outcasts and freaks, mutants and outsiders. It's like he's tumbled into Wonderland, and more and more he's realizing that - Queen of Hearts and all - he doesn't want to wake up.

"Most everyone's mad here," Ned says, offering his own quotation as counterpoint, not realizing that the leap from what Jesse said to the relevance of that statement mostly all occurred within his head, and its relevance might not be clear. Probably a side-effect of the exhaustion, creeping up on him again like a wave. Ned yawns again - a slow, jaw-popping thing - before shaking his head, trying to clear it. He blinks four or five times in a row, runs a hand down his face. Biological necessity is finally becoming urgent enough that it's overriding his fear of falling asleep again.

Edited 2013-04-11 03:11 (UTC)

Jesse feels the same way as far as the quote goes. It's nice to remember it sometimes, one of those little comforts when he feels like he's - being left out. Which is something that he's been feeling all day, but he's slowly trying to get past it. This actually makes him feel better, like he can do something without fucking it up.

When Ned answers with a quote of his own, Jesse laughs a little. He didn't quite follow the train of thought, but it's true enough. Either way, Ned's exhaustion is evident and it's enough to distract Jesse from responding to it. Instead, he wrinkles his nose, peering at Ned.

"How long has it been since you slept, huh?" Jesse asks, scooting closer and peering at the piemaker like he's going to be able to smell how long he's been awake for or something.

"I don't know." Ned doesn't object to Jesse coming closer or staring at him. He rests his head on his hand because yes, he's awfully tired, and it's getting difficult to hold it up straight the way he's supposed to. "Not since the thing with Galen." He's caught himself drifting off, now and then, but never for more than a handful of minutes at a time. "I was too scared to."

It's nice, being able to say that, so plainly, so simply, and know Jesse won't scoff at him, or think less of him.

"So I guess that's about..." he starts trying to count the hours, has to stop and do it over, "... 40 hours? Ish?" He doesn't know exactly when the nightmare happened, so the figure isn't precise. It does sound like a lot, now that he's saying it out loud. Ned's had problems with insomnia before, so it's not exactly a new number to him, but he's not as young as he used to be.

It does make Jesse feel bad, though - because he feels like he should've been around to stop it. It's not the same thing as Galen and the nightmare dog, but still. So Ned's too scared to sleep, and forty hours, yeah, Jesse's going to have to do something about it.

"Jesus fuckin' christ, Ned, almost two days?" It's not anything but concern, because Jesse's been there. "Man, look. You're gonna sleep right now, and I'm gonna look after you, yeah? Don't argue with me, you gotta sleep. And you said Galen gets all like - up in your business, right? Well, if it happens, I'll bite him."

Don't try to stop him either, because he's already pulling off the cardigan and making it into a pillow.

It's so much easier not to argue. So much easier to trust Jesse, to nod blearily and accept his offer of protection - not just from Galen, but from anything else that might happen across him here: vampires, dragons, or some new monster waiting for a turn.

Ned might protest, under other circumstances, but he remembers that Jesse can turn into a wolf, can look out for himself. He accepts the cardigan pillow, setting down his head with a soft, "Okay." He wants to say thank you, but now that he's laying down and his eyes are closed, it seems an impossible effort to open his mouth. He'll say it in a minute, he thinks. But then he's already slipped off to sleep. His face looks different while he sleeps: restful, blank, the habitual anxiety wiped away.

Ned going straight to sleep makes Jesse grin a little, rubbing at the back of his head. Right. Time to protect, then. He can do that well enough.

With a sigh, Jesse shakes himself out and in the next minute, he's a wolf, big and furry and warm as hell. He takes in the way Ned looks, snuffling, and then promptly moves to settle down mostly on top of Ned, head flopping down on Ned's chest with a snort. There. Now he's safe.

And Ned has a big flurry blanket. He'll stay there until Ned wakes up.

Ned sleeps for quite some time without dreaming. The nightmare, when it does come, is nowhere near as intense as the last, without Galen there to draw it out, to turn the screw. It is simpler, too - a blind, breathless fright from some unknown, unnamed danger. Ned wakes from it with a tiny, frightened inhalation.

A wolf - Jesse, his brain supplies - is sleeping curled up on him, its face pressed against his chest, one ear twitching as it lets out a long, contented sigh. The fear evaporates immediately. Ned drapes one arm over the wolf and closes his eyes, slipping back to sleep without another sound, feeling warm, and safe, and happy.

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[open] apples and quinces, lemons and oranges

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