[OTA] All hands look out below, there's a change in the status quo

[poaceae]

WHO: Fern the Human
WHERE: The fountain, the southern inn
WHEN: man idk
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None anticipated

---

[ Fountain Arrival ]

He's surrounded by water. Huh, he thinks. That's weird. The last thing he remembers is being shredded. Apparently he's more durable than he realized. He looks around, trying to get his bearings. It kind of looks like he was just dumped in a pond or something. It sure was a cold pond, though.

"Brrr," he says to himself, and feels the bubbles rush upwards past his nose. He stares up at them for a moment.

Woah, wait, I can breathe? He takes an instinctive breath, then realizes an entirely other problem. Oh cram, I need to breathe! He swims up at last in a rush, cursing whatever is on him that's slowing him down. He finally surfaces with a splash and takes a big gulping breath. Then he takes a few more, just because he can.

Once his breathing (breathing, wow, it's been so long since he's done that) is back to normal he lays on his back, staring at the sky. It's more of an effort than it should be, but he can't be bothered to take off whatever it is yet. He tries to blow mist, since he can tell it's cold enough for that, but doesn't see any. No internal heat, then. Still, an upgrade is an upgrade. He wonders why. He wonders what went so wrong with his genius plan to take Finn's place. He wonders a lot of things, none of which inspire him to swim to the ledge and climb out of the icy fountain.

[ At the Inn ]

The boy sits as far from the fire as he can while still benefiting from its warmth, covered in what blankets, towels and clothes from his backpack were made available to him. Somewhere in the pile is orange scrubs, but they aren't particularly visible. What is visible is his hat, seemingly modeled off of a bear's head, but with ears flattened on the ends and a diamond-shaped opening cut for his face. The whole thing is woven out of grass, only it isn't woven exactly, just built like a sort of golf course in miniature. His face also appears to have been crafted out of grass, laid flat end to end so it at least vaguely resembles skin. His eyes too, with different tones for the whites and iris.

If all of that isn't strange enough, he seems to be wilting a bit. Every part of him is slowly turning the slightest bit brown, wrinkling and shrinking just enough to be worrying. He's dry now, at least. Still, every now and then he lets out a quiet moan. If he was human you might think he had a cold. He is definitely not human.

Comments

Fountain Arrival

[houmaprotector]

Alec keeps to himself.

This is his habit. Collect his plants and go about his business. Live his life despite it not being his world. He's halfway to the inn, passing the fountain, when he spots the new figure. Turning to the fountain, he sets his items down and moves toward it. The cold in his roots makes his joints ache but he keeps moving. Then...

That boy is made of grass

Wait. What?

No. It can't be.

The part of him that is Alec Holland knows a terrible secret. The green has taken children as avatars before. Wise and ancient they live in their green realms taken far too soon, unable to live a human life.

So he's slightly apprehensive as he approaches. The closer he gets to the boy the more he sees - he's made of grass but he's no avatar he recognizes. What on earth...

"Take it easy son."

[poaceae]

Fern turns his head to find the source of the sound and blinks. Huh. Kinda looks like a swamp giant, though it's hard to tell from this angle. No hair, though, and he sounds a lot more mature than the swamp giants Fern has dealt with.

"Hey," he offers in sullen greeting, raising a hand from the water for a lazy wave. When he sets it down again his balance is upset and he rights himself to try and get the backpack off of his other backpack. The orange scrubs really aren't helping.

[houmaprotector]

To say he has questions is an understatement. Hovering, wary, he moves forward, "...Getting the scrubs off is tough, trust me. I'm-"

He pauses, "Is there something you need? A branch trimmed? I might be able to help."

[poaceae]

He's not sure what scrubs are, or why this random guy is talking about branches, but he does have to flail around in the water for a good bit until secondary backpack will slide off his arm. He sighs his satisfaction to have thwarted the beast and inspects it curiously.

"No, I've got it. Where did all this come from?" he asks himself, more quietly.

He's about to unzip it to investigate further when he realizes that the cold is making him feel weird.

"Later," he decides aloud and starts his swim to the edge, dragging the backpack along.

[houmaprotector]

"...Maybe get out of the water." He offers him a hand, "Even us plants can freeze."

It's a point of fact.

"I can take you inside, get warm. what do you..." he frowns, "I'd like to help if you'd be all right."

[poaceae]

Closer now, he could take a proper look at the stranger. Not quite a swamp giant, no. Definitely kind of swampy, though. That was cool. He'd never met another plant person. He accepts the help, dragging himself and his new addition out of the fountain. His orange scrubs were the correct size, but stretched over the clothes and backpack he was already wearing underneath- the clothes that were a part of him.

"Sure, warm sounds good," he agrees distractedly, looking around at the village center.

"What is this place?"

[houmaprotector]

"Most people just call it the village." He gestures, "Truth be told I haven't asked..." he makes a note to ask Stark about that, "...It's populated with humans mostly. Hence my surprise and pleasure at seeing you."

Walking slowly to the inn he sighs, "You've been kidnapped. In a way. The beings here are powerful and they do what they can to antagonize us, but everyone here is kind and helpful."

[poaceae]

"Oh, yeah," he agreed, disheartened. He's not human. He could have been Finn, but that's not a possibility anymore.

"Kidnapped, huh. They sound evil." His voice turned threatening as he held out his hand to summon the grass sword.

Only it didn't come. He stared at his hand for a moment, opening and closing it as he tried to form the sword again and again.

"What? Hey, what happened to my sword?!" He tried it with the other hand too, with no success.

"What the butts, man!"

[houmaprotector]

This child is not of the green. That's...disconcerting. One big hand moves to the boy's shoulder, "Be calm. It's this place. It limits powers. I have the same abilities and I can't access the green either."

He pauses, "...How else do you feel? What can I do for you?"

[poaceae]

He actually growls under his breath. He is not okay with this turn of events. It makes him feel like he's not in control, like he's losing himself- like his demon side is in control.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out.

"Unless you can get me another sword, I'm fine. I can take care of myself." So he says, but he's starting to discolor a little...

[houmaprotector]

"I'm sure you can, but why not let me try to help you until I can get you another sword?"

One made of grass? His mind ran to the vending machine. If he could grow himself he could make the boy a sword easily.

"...I've never seen another being like me before?"

[poaceae]

He turns and frowns up at the man.

"But you're not like me," he says slowly, coming to the hesitant conclusion as he speaks.

"Why do you want to help?" The answer, if honest, will be telling.

At the Inn

[whipshots]

Another day, another new arrival to——

Wait, what?

It had started to become something of routine, finding miserable people in front of the fireplace and trying to make them feel better, as others had for her. But this one is green and brown, with an unusual texture to his skin (if you can even call it skin); it looks rather like someone's carefully placed a decorative plant in a chair. But the small moans emitting from it sound human enough. In the end, it's curiosity more than her usual sympathy that brings Brigitte over this time.

"Um, hi. Are you okay?"

[poaceae]

"Huh?" Fern asked groggily, looking up at the stranger. It was a girl. Stranger still, it looked like a human girl.

"Not really. I think the fountain made me sick." He’d felt okay to start with, but the wet and cold had made him feel a little turgid and weird. Now he’d warmed up, and that somehow made it worse.

"I’m Fern. Who’re you?"

[whipshots]

"Your name is Fern, or you are a fern?" Too late, though, she realised that this might've been the height of rudeness to ask -- aghast at herself, Brigitte backpedalled with a blush: "Uh. Sorry, I just-- I've never met anyone looking quite like you."

Other weird appearances, though, sure. So she wasn't as horrified as others might be, more curious, as she added: "I'm Brigitte. What do you mean, sick?"

(She knew what the common cold looked like in a human, but what did it look like in a plant-person??)

[poaceae]

"My name is Fern," he clarified, sounding resigned under the sickly tone his voice had taken on. "I’m made of grass."

He let out another low moan and shuddered.

"I don’t know. I just don’t feel right."

[whipshots]

Brigitte stepped closer, to get a better look at him -- "May I?", and her hand gently touched the edge of his temples, checking the wilting and browning grass as if checking his temperature. It did look bad and unhealthy, like whenever her houseplants gently drooped over and died (she was awful at remembering to water them), but she couldn't quite tell what it meant. If he'd just come from the fountain, surely it couldn't be that he was too dry, could it--?

"Maybe you need to drink some more water? It's kind of hot here by the fire." He'd situated himself far enough away that he wouldn't catch aflame, but she still had no idea what to do.

As she touched him, though, something startling happened: some of Fern's physical discomfort unexpectedly rippled away, fading, and Brig promptly felt a headache building, her nose sniffling into congestion.

What.

[poaceae]

He was ice-melt cold to the touch and just a bit squishy, as plants tend to be when their cell walls have been damaged by something like cold shock. He sat up a little straighter as the wrong feeling slid away like water and stared at the woman.

"Hey, I feel better! Are you a wizard?"

[whipshots]

"No? I mean--" Most things she'd seen in her life that seemed like magic was really just high-tech wizardry. "I don't have any powers. This is, um. Something new." Her body ached, far too familiar from when she'd been immersed in the fountain herself.

But Brigitte blinked, managed to summon up a smile for the plant-boy. "Feeling more yourself?"

[poaceae]

He nods. This is normal, people going through stuff and changing in tangible ways that they don’t understand.

"Yeah!" He pulls his arms out of the pile and inspects them. They’re still brown and misshapen, but that’s alright. Maybe it’ll take longer to get his color back. Then he looks up at the young woman again.

"But you don’t look so hot. I guess it takes a lot out of you, huh." He’s intrigued, even if he doesn’t care about her suffering.

[whipshots]

"Your guess is as good as mine." She's sniffling now, an annoying runny nose that reminds her of a thousand winter colds she's hard over the course of her life. Brigitte blinks away her confusion. She's going to have to ask people about this. Is it normal? She's never been powered, her whole life, despite knowing several people with abilities or technology that seem to defy reality.

"Oh god I think maybe I caught your sickness. Or took it. Or something."

[poaceae]

He watches her, taking note of each symptom. She does seem ill, but he didn't have a runny nose or anything. He's not sure his nose can run. Weird.

"Are you keeping it?" he asks, as though she would know how this mysterious new power of hers works. He'd like it if she kept it. Then he wouldn't have to feel so crummy anymore.

[whipshots]

As if she even knows how she took it, or how to give it back -- but even so, Brigitte's answer is easy enough. Because what other answer is there? (And there's a reason, of course, why the Observers handed her this particular power and these light grey scrubs.)

So: "Yes," Brig says, with a weak smile. "It's the least I could do for a new arrival, right? You've already had a really stressful day."

[poaceae]

"Good." He doesn't bother hiding his approval. Even if he could he wouldn't want to take it back.

"I have had a rough day." He was ripped to shreds, then learned how to breath air, then almost drowned... It's been A Lot.

closed?

[whipshots]

"Good," she echoes back to him, along with a, "Good luck, Fern. Warm up and take care of yourself, would you?"

Which then leaves Brigitte to slump off to the kitchen herself, looking for a hot bowl of stew, a hot cup of tea, something-anything to carry back to her inn bedroom as she flops back under the covers. To rest, and to mull over this strange new ability she's uncovered. Maybe it really is magic.