[open] apples and quinces, lemons and oranges

[nedofpies]

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.

Comments

[nedofpies]

He has never been much good at hiding his reactions to things, try as he might. When Galen mentions hallucinating his mother, Ned - who had been watching a bee climb its way up a stalk of lavender - looks up at Galen sharply. Now, more than ever, he realizes how lucky he is to have arrived after the mass drugging. If he had hallucinated his own mother, he isn't sure he would have come out the other side quite sane.

Part of him wants to ask why Galen's mother, what happened to her (perhaps nothing, but Ned has already been seeing so many parallels between them that his mind leaps to the conclusion), but he remains silent. It's none of his business. Galen's told him plenty of things today - difficult, personal things - without Ned prying for more.

"They're comparable enough," Ned says. Mentally, he adds except that yours doesn't come with a body count. But he doesn't want to remind Galen any more than necessary that he's a murderer. "So yeah, I know what you mean."

There is a moment of silence between them, and Ned says quietly, "I never thought I'd meet anyone who got it. Or even anyone else who had could do stuff, like we can." That has been one of the unexpected silver linings of being brought to this place: realizing that he isn't alone.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it any more, but do you know where it came from, in the first place? Your dream-walking stuff?" Ned, in his own way, is trying to be helpful, trying to point Galen in the direction of an answer, of an identity, if he should want one. Ned knows from recent experience how great that can be. "I don't have any idea for mine, but some people here were saying that maybe it's something to do with genetic mutation? Which made a lot more sense to me than... than a random curse."

[gleans]

Galen doesn't notice Ned's reaction, so he just nods, then plants his hands behind him and leans back a little. He'd never really thought about how nice it might be to talk to someone in a similar situation; someone who didn't ask for it, who has to deal with the consequences of something they don't even fully understand.

"Genetic mutation?" He frowns thoughtfully, but he's not sure how something like this could be genetics. Unless humans really do have some kind of latent capacity for psychic abilities, which honestly wouldn't surprise him. He's always had feelings about things, growing up, so that might be a possible next step. God, to think he thought the world was normal, a year ago.

"I actually have no idea, but... that sounds possible. And definitely better than a random curse." And better than that thing making it happen, wanting it to happen. He shivers a little.

"Huh. I wonder if that means something was like... passed down, or something." Better this than schizophrenia, he thinks, but then that opens another door of questions he can't answer, so he quickly pushes that away.

[nedofpies]

"That was what I thought. But the person I asked-" Ned is careful not to give any names. It's not that he distrusts Galen, but it isn't Ned's information to give out, "-said it doesn't have to be hereditary. That's part of how evolution works, right? Out of nowhere there's a random glitch in the DNA of one kangaroo, and if that glitch is helpful, it gets passed down until there are only kangaroos with that mutation. Maybe... the gene for having abilities like ours is like that." Ned's not exactly a science whizz, but he thinks he understands the Darwinian basics well enough to explain the idea, as he understands it, to Galen.

"It may also explain why it only started after you got sent back," Ned says, the pieces seeming to all fit into place. "The guy said that mutations don't really work until they get triggered by something. Like, a traumatic event, specifically." He'd also said puberty was an option, but Galen's old enough that Ned doubts that was at play. "Maybe getting sent back from here and not being able to remember it was the kick-start it needed." Ned sure as hell considers that trauma enough.

[gleans]

The way Ned explains it makes it make sense, particularly the possibility that it could be some kind of random evolutionary factor. He nods, sighs a little in relief at the explanation.

"That'd do it, I guess," he agrees. "Or maybe not, like -- that point I went home, I was pretty stressed out anyway, and I know stress can trigger a lot of shit. But -- yeah, man, either way, you're right. Something triggered it, whether it was working too hard or physically getting chucked back home." And either way, it still unnerves him.

"So -- I never got the chance to ask about what you got saddled with," Galen says, attempting to gently shift the subject. He reaches to touch one of the close by flowers, smirking a little. "This is a fuckton of foliage, dude."

[nedofpies]

Ned can take a hint. He smiles at Galen's unusual - but apt - turn of phrase. "You can say that again."

He feels a little guilty, that his power has proved so thoroughly enjoyable, whereas Galen's has been putting him - and others - through hell. "I don't know what you'd even call it," he say, running a hand over the grass in demonstration. A few seconds later, a small army of bluebells are growing as if in fast-forward, just over the area that Ned touched. He plucks a handful, tying the stem of one around the lot to make a quick bouquet. He's gotten quite good at that. "I seem to make things grow."

Reaching over to a nearby strawberry vine, Ned plucks one of the pieces of fruit, ruby-red and perfectly ripe, from the stem. "Can only seem to make it work on fruit and flowers, though. Not sure why."