[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

Day 58

[thezerothlaw]

Being outside is vastly different than it was. He's aware of temperature in a way he wasn't, as being too hot or too cold is actually uncomfortable now. There are also smells: not the same as detecting smoke or gas or other compound in the air, but actual scent, which is altogether a new and complex sense.

So it's the flowers that get Daneel's attention. He doesn't remember there being flowers here, which is curious in itself, but the smells. Flowers are valued for their scent as well as their colour, and this is worth investigating.

He hadn't expected to find anyone else, though. "Hello, Ned."

Day 58

[recognize_an_opportunity]

It had taken until it wasn't quite so bright outside for him to be comfortable going out. While the sun didn't seem to seriously injure him the way it injured the vampires of legend, it still wasn't pleasant, and he wasn't sure he wanted people seeing him in this state anyway. Unfortunately, with an angry dragon for a roommate, it had become necessary to leave the house for awhile, which was why he found himself wandering to the edge of the woods.

He noticed the flowers before he noticed Ned, and in fact, started counting the flowers before he realized that the flowers were a new addition. Halfway through counting, he looked up, having realized that someone else was there. "Oh, hey."

evening of day 59

[rigging]

The woods is where Jesse spent half of his day, so when he catches the scent of what he thinks is Ned, and a metric fuckton of flowers, he - pretty much sneezes forever, actually. But he hasn't seen much of Ned, and he remembers what Galen told him about what happened, so Jesse's maybe a little concerned. He's definitely going to have to investigate this.

So he does! Ned will see a wolf trotting up to his little den of flowers, sniffing at them and immediately sneezing like seven times in a row. With a whine, the wolf paws at his nose, and then scoots back to growl at the flowers. He can smell you in there, man.

Morning of day 60

[nevermindtherunning]

It had been 48 hours since the Doctor had woken up with this ruddy ailment. With each second ticking away, he hoped he'd return back to being a Time Lord, but with each second the more that saw that slipping away as well.

It was a defeatist attitude, but the last time he had looked in the mirror, he noticed the dark circles under his eyes, which seemed to summarize everything. Humans were suppose to sleep, weren't they? He was exhausted, and... OK, a bit drunk too.

He wasn't even sure where he had found the rum anymore, and he had completely forgotten that humans weren't able to control their metabolism. As a Time Lord, he could reroute the breakdown and reverse the effects of the alcohol.

Tie hanging loose around his neck, he trashed the empty bottle and... those were pretty flowers! He looked up and noticed they were in a specific path, but the planning of it was rather pathetic. If there was even city planning here. He followed them, noticing with his movements the colors blurred until a color didn't match them.

"Ned! Neeeed! Neddy-ned! How your garden grows!"

Day 62

[greenisnteasy]

The Hulk likes spending time with Tony, but he finds time to go for a walk. He likes being in nature too, the quiet of it, away from people; as much as he likes having friends, he needs some peace and quiet too, sometimes. He spots the path of flowers and is curious about them because they're pretty and they smell nice, and it's pleasant to walk along the path they make. It's pleasant to enjoy pleasantness without worrying about Banner taking over.

What he isn't expecting at the end of the path is a guy, and definitely not a guy who's vaguely familiar.

"Didn't I smash you?"

Day 60

[gleans]

He has to do it eventually, and Galen is tired of hanging around in the house. He doesn't like sitting and ruminating on what ifs when he could actually be doing something, and two days after the incident, Galen is sure enough of himself that he can at least try to find Ned and apologize. It's what Ned deserves, after being nothing but kind to him.

It's weird to think that he's following a scent - what, some kind of mental scent? -, so he doesn't think of it that way; just considers it a sort of instinct as he heads away from the house, in the direction of what he soon sees is a strangely lush garden, full of flowers and plants and berries. When he gets close enough, he slows, arms crossed and shoulders slightly hunched, eyes darting around the area for his housemate. Galen knows he's here, somewhere.

He swallows, clears his throat quietly. "Ned?"

Day 61

[shesamarshmallow]

Day one, she'd been okay. Day two, she'd managed. Day three, hard as hell. And she'd lost track of days. It didn't help that she tended to sleep through them. She hadn't wandered around at night so much in months. But here she was, following a trail of plants that she suspected would lead to food. Or somewhere.

She couldn't break into a house, though. Not if she was a vampire. She couldn't do it that someone else. But she had to do something, go somewhere. She was starving, but she wasn't hungry for food. She had to get out of there, away from the heartbeats and the scent of people.

She's followed the trail into the woods before she realizes what a mistake this might be. She can hear a heartbeat. And before she can stop herself, she's at the man's side, watching him sleep, and the sound of his blood coursing through his veins would make her mouth water if she weren't so parched.

"Um. Hi." She sets a hand on his chest. How is she supposed to do this? She's never bitten someone before.

But hey, she just felt her incisors growing, so however she does it, she'll be doing it with a lisp. That's good to know.

"I'm Veronica. I'll be vamping on you today."

That sounded as good as anything. And holy Count Chocula, did a jugular ever look so good?

Late evening, day 60, I think

[manofiron]

He shouldn’t be out here. Deep, deep down beneath the all-consuming thirst, where there are still the remnants of a rational mind, Tony knows that he shouldn’t be here. He should be far removed from the town, buried in the woods until the smell of leaves and dirt and animal fur blocks out the scent of the people sleeping inside the flimsy protection of wooden houses. But he has no more hope of staying away than he does of willing his heart to beat again.

What he wants is there, flowing in tiny, secret channels hidden with the flesh of others. He wants it so badly that his teeth, razor-sharp for piercing the flesh and ferreting out its buried treasure, ache with it, and the remembered taste sits heavy and tantalizing on his tongue: thick and electric, with the coppery tang of the tiny bits of metal.

Metal. Always metal. Like the metal he wore and the cold, useless thing in his chest that he still hasn’t pried out. It’s like an heirloom, like a reminder, and the tiny, infinitesimal part of him that hasn’t given up on hope knows that he can’t take it out. There’s no telling if or when they’ll regain their true forms, and without it, he’ll be dead.

Dead like he is now. Dead like his prey will be when he reaches them. And soon he shall, for he’s circled ever closer to the unsuspecting town, each wide, sweeping arc of his thoughts drawing him in until he’s close enough that he can leave the trees for the town proper. He shouldn’t be here. He knows he needs to go back. Go away. Before he loses control. Before he kills.

But Tony isn’t listening to that quiet, fading voice of reason. He’s listening to the hunger racing through his body and turning his veins to fire. He’s listening to the grating of his teeth and the predatory thoughts slowly overwriting his mind.

He’s hungry. So very hungry. And dinner is about to be served.

Late 58 to very early 59

[nedofpies]

[continued from here]

Ned is only just keeping himself together. He hears River laughing, exultant and happy at his side. Their fingers are knitted together tightly, hers strangely rough and bark-like, his white-knuckled with fear. For now he focuses on just running, putting one foot in front of another and getting as far away from that house as he can.

When they reach the bower he stops, turns on the spot and without warning hugs River fiercely. He stoops down to bury his face in her shoulder, eyes shut as he says a shuddering, "Thank you."

He doesn't let go or loosen his hold one bit. He needs to reassure himself that she's here, that the two of them got out alive, that safe. "Thank you thank you so much."