[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]

Ned laughs, too, when she touches his nose, because it's such a River-ish thing to do. The change clearly hasn't altered her all that much. Still unpredictable and affectionate. It's fascinating, to recognize that in her and incorporate the side he'd seen earlier, with Charlie. All fire and anger and graceful violence. It rounds out his picture of her, adds depth and contrast. There's real danger, underneath brightness and the joy. But that's not frightening to him. He's dangerous underneath, too, in his own way.

What she says about just being strikes a chord with him, puts words to that ambient sense of inert contentment which he hadn't been able to articulate on his own.

"I realize how ridiculous it is for me to lecture anyone about worrying, particularly considering recent events, but it isn't your job to stop everything bad from happening all the time." But telling someone not to worry is never going to help. Ned knows that. Better to take that not knowing which is concerning her and distract her from it, or else make it into something enjoyable.

"Now's your chance to try all the stuff you couldn't do before because of your telepathy." Is there a list? Ned knows in his case there was a list of things he'd do without his powers, and he just assumes River will be the same. "We could play twenty questions." It's childish, sure, but he doesn't much care. Teaching Daneel to spin in circles until he was so dizzy he fell down had been childish, too, but it had also been the highlight of his day. "Come on. I'm thinking of a thing. You get twenty yes or no questions to guess what it is." A tree would be too obvious, a star run the risk of making her homesick. Unsurprisingly, he settles on a pie.

[enchangement]

"Okay..." River smiles and tilts her head, thinking. It's such a sweet thing to offer, a moment of pure childhood; if she and Simon ever played twenty questions it was likely along the lines of complex chemical markers and the distance between their favorite stars.

Of course she'll worry. Of course she can't stop, but by the same token she can't quite bring herself to be as distressed over it. It's in her mind, that need to be aware, that need to protect but in her body, her bones, her blood? There's a desire to take root, be still, enjoy the sun on her skin and the wind in her hair and just be.

Contentment is something she's never had many chances for and that, moreso than loosing her telepathic gifts or curses, is what she wants to hold onto now. That is the advantage she'll take.

So. Twenty questions. She wonders if she can get it in three. "Can you eat it?" She knows you, Ned. Gonna have to try harder.

[nedofpies]

Ned's laughter at her question gives the game away even further, but he doesn't care. Even without psychic powers, River clearly knows exactly how his brain works. It probably helps that he's unbelievably predictable. He's going to have to think of something more difficult for the next round. "Yes, you can eat it." She's gonna get it on her second or third guess, he's sure.

In the meantime his hands are busy making her a necklace to match the crown, weaving in jasmine and primroses with the moonflowers.

[enchangement]

With a grin River digs her bare toes into soft, warm soil, watching Ned make a necklace out of flowers. "Can you ...bake it?" Look at her, trying to give the benefit of the doubt.

This is good. This is ...nice, quiet, calming happiness that neither of them have had in spades in their lives up until this point. River can actually let go of fear for a moment, of concern. Let go of the weight of so many people on her shoulders. It'll be okay. This was okay, wasn't it?

She knows that's not exactly true, but she wants to believe it and this may be the only chance she gets to do it. Happy and laughing in the sun with a good friend, and not missing the stars for the first time since she woke up here.

[nedofpies]

"Yes." There's no question: she's onto him. Ned, too, is enjoying this moment of childishness. This chance to pretend, for a little while, that River really is his sister. They've been turned into related things, haven't they? Her the spirit of a tree, him... whatever he is right now. He imagines this is what it must have been like, for all the boys at school who had little sisters they saw around the holidays. Spending time together, playing games, being happy without it being an effort.

Of course, part of him knows that it likely wasn't that way. They were always complaining in loud voices (the school was always so loud when everyone came back after the weeks of silence and snow, or silence and sun) how annoying their sisters were, how they followed them around and wanted to spend too much time with them. Ned can't imagine that concept: a surplus of someone wanting to spend time with him.

[enchangement]

"Is it ...pie?" she asks with almost accusatory glee, not giving Ned much of a chance to respond before she sets at him with tickling until he howls with laughter and has to push her off.

Of course it's pie, what else could it be? Ned is still Ned even if the dying and reviving god has been rewritten to place its attentions firmly in the flora instead of human beings and variations thereof. It is good that they're similar, now - good that she can spend time with someone being quiet, good that she can make him laugh and not hurt, not worry.

It's good in the way that knowing and meeting Ned is good, and she tells him this long after the sun has gone down and they play a game of naming the strange constellations after flowers, trees, plants.

It's good to be grounded without pining for the stars.