Re: The Wretched Rite - Round One - The Rose Ring
07-16-2011, 09:16 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
Ivy's companion was no fool. It knew that something strange was happening, and while its power had saved itself many times, it knew that strangeness needed thought to be unravelled. It knew that its best chance for survival here lay not in blind fury or stabbing fear- none of those had helped when they had encountered strange things in the past. No, this was a time for its human to be awake, and it had wasted no time in bringing her back to herself as quickly as possible. It would give her back her mind for now, and until she had a grasp of the situation, she would keep it. Then, however, it would be time for Hedera reindanis to take back control, doing what, through her, it would know needed to be done to survive.
-
Dr. Reindana was in an office. She hadn't been in one for years- the closest she'd come had been a warehouse she'd snuck into a few months ago. (Or had it been a year?) It still felt familiar, though- it had that thin coating of junk and papers sitting around that reminded her more of home than anything else could have. It was lived in by someone not terribly organized, not terribly tidy, and- judging by the stack of papers in the "in" box and the single sheet in the "out"- not terribly keen on paperwork. The blinds on the room's single window weren't in great shape, and under a crack in the ceiling, there was a bucket of water, crisp and cool, soothing her face as she splashed it onto herself and drank-
She knocked it aside, stepping back from it and wiping her face with her hands. She cursed. Here she was in some sort of civilization, and she couldn't control herself. She was a biologist, a scholar, not some animal. Civilized people didn't just splash water all over themselves.
Then again, civilized people didn't usually wear crude cloaks and live deep in the Amazon, either.
She did her best to stop dwelling on thoughts like that, failed, and just decided to rummage through some desk drawers instead. She'd given up on trying to rationalize stealing things quite a while ago, and now she simply thought of it as necessary. It wasn't like she could earn it the proper way, so she just took what she needed and justified it to herself by not taking any more than that.
Case in point, the loot from the desk. There'd been a lighter in there (still wrapped in plastic), a pair of pens, a jumble of paperclips and other deskly nonsense, a flask of something alcoholic, and what looked like some old, stale dog treats. She'd only taken the lighter and the pens (bringing her up to five, the newest two being by far the nicest), and left everything else behind. Well, okay, she'd taken a swig from the flask as well. She wasn't a saint.
She unwrapped the lighter, one of those old-style metal ones, and cautiously flicked back the top. She'd stopped bothering with fires after a few months in the jungle, as it wasn't exactly ever cold down there and she'd burned a decent section of brush away a few times too many. Slowly, she flicked the wheel. Nothing. She flicked it a bit faster. Nothing again. She tried once more, and this time, there was flame. It was small and warm, and for a bit, she just stared at the tiny, flickering fire.
-
Ivy was outside, and she didn't really remember getting there. There was something clenched in her right hand, held so tight it was digging into her palm a bit. She'd been looking at the lighter, she'd gotten it to work... and then she'd been out here.
The biologist sighed. It had happened before, and it was never good news. It meant she'd lost control again, done something drastic out of self-defence or because she was scared. It was that damn plant, she knew. It had made her overreact to something.
There wasn't much she could do about it. She'd resigned herself to spending her life living with that parasitic thing on her back, and sometimes, it just made her do things it thought would help it survive. She didn't have any choice in the matter.
Sighing, she put it out of her mind and looked around. The street was calm, empty, and it didn't look like any of the others were around.
The others. She hadn't thought much about them yet- the general "what is even going on," she'd gotten out of the way during the introduction. (Either her already-insane life was genuinely getting weirder or this was all some sort of delusion the plant was forcing on her. It wouldn't be the first time either had happened.) The specific others, though? She'd need to give them some thought.
Starting off down the street, she considered them one by one. The specifics of her considerations came to be much more interesting once their introductions had been written and she had something to start from. While she walked, though, her thoughts were interspersed with an unheard conversation that is, for now, just going to have to stand on its own.
Sister ivy, you seem stressed. Your home is unsafe. How may I assist?
Your concerns are appreciated but unneeded. This has been my home through two winters, and it has served me well.
Nonetheless, my offer stands. I would not want to see my kin hurt.
Well, if you want to come with, this one is intending to locate others of her kind.
That would not be wise.
I would not be alive if this one was a fool. Besides, I will not allow my home to come to harm.
Have care, sister. Confidence and arrogance are not so far apart.
Olivia walked on, still unaware of the plant-being behind her.
-
The office was starting to fill with smoke. The old, wooden desk was merrily crackling now, the stack of papers long-gone and the flask in one drawer glowing from the heat.
Ivy's companion was no fool. It knew that something strange was happening, and while its power had saved itself many times, it knew that strangeness needed thought to be unravelled. It knew that its best chance for survival here lay not in blind fury or stabbing fear- none of those had helped when they had encountered strange things in the past. No, this was a time for its human to be awake, and it had wasted no time in bringing her back to herself as quickly as possible. It would give her back her mind for now, and until she had a grasp of the situation, she would keep it. Then, however, it would be time for Hedera reindanis to take back control, doing what, through her, it would know needed to be done to survive.
-
Dr. Reindana was in an office. She hadn't been in one for years- the closest she'd come had been a warehouse she'd snuck into a few months ago. (Or had it been a year?) It still felt familiar, though- it had that thin coating of junk and papers sitting around that reminded her more of home than anything else could have. It was lived in by someone not terribly organized, not terribly tidy, and- judging by the stack of papers in the "in" box and the single sheet in the "out"- not terribly keen on paperwork. The blinds on the room's single window weren't in great shape, and under a crack in the ceiling, there was a bucket of water, crisp and cool, soothing her face as she splashed it onto herself and drank-
She knocked it aside, stepping back from it and wiping her face with her hands. She cursed. Here she was in some sort of civilization, and she couldn't control herself. She was a biologist, a scholar, not some animal. Civilized people didn't just splash water all over themselves.
Then again, civilized people didn't usually wear crude cloaks and live deep in the Amazon, either.
She did her best to stop dwelling on thoughts like that, failed, and just decided to rummage through some desk drawers instead. She'd given up on trying to rationalize stealing things quite a while ago, and now she simply thought of it as necessary. It wasn't like she could earn it the proper way, so she just took what she needed and justified it to herself by not taking any more than that.
Case in point, the loot from the desk. There'd been a lighter in there (still wrapped in plastic), a pair of pens, a jumble of paperclips and other deskly nonsense, a flask of something alcoholic, and what looked like some old, stale dog treats. She'd only taken the lighter and the pens (bringing her up to five, the newest two being by far the nicest), and left everything else behind. Well, okay, she'd taken a swig from the flask as well. She wasn't a saint.
She unwrapped the lighter, one of those old-style metal ones, and cautiously flicked back the top. She'd stopped bothering with fires after a few months in the jungle, as it wasn't exactly ever cold down there and she'd burned a decent section of brush away a few times too many. Slowly, she flicked the wheel. Nothing. She flicked it a bit faster. Nothing again. She tried once more, and this time, there was flame. It was small and warm, and for a bit, she just stared at the tiny, flickering fire.
-
Ivy was outside, and she didn't really remember getting there. There was something clenched in her right hand, held so tight it was digging into her palm a bit. She'd been looking at the lighter, she'd gotten it to work... and then she'd been out here.
The biologist sighed. It had happened before, and it was never good news. It meant she'd lost control again, done something drastic out of self-defence or because she was scared. It was that damn plant, she knew. It had made her overreact to something.
There wasn't much she could do about it. She'd resigned herself to spending her life living with that parasitic thing on her back, and sometimes, it just made her do things it thought would help it survive. She didn't have any choice in the matter.
Sighing, she put it out of her mind and looked around. The street was calm, empty, and it didn't look like any of the others were around.
The others. She hadn't thought much about them yet- the general "what is even going on," she'd gotten out of the way during the introduction. (Either her already-insane life was genuinely getting weirder or this was all some sort of delusion the plant was forcing on her. It wouldn't be the first time either had happened.) The specific others, though? She'd need to give them some thought.
Starting off down the street, she considered them one by one. The specifics of her considerations came to be much more interesting once their introductions had been written and she had something to start from. While she walked, though, her thoughts were interspersed with an unheard conversation that is, for now, just going to have to stand on its own.
Sister ivy, you seem stressed. Your home is unsafe. How may I assist?
Your concerns are appreciated but unneeded. This has been my home through two winters, and it has served me well.
Nonetheless, my offer stands. I would not want to see my kin hurt.
Well, if you want to come with, this one is intending to locate others of her kind.
That would not be wise.
I would not be alive if this one was a fool. Besides, I will not allow my home to come to harm.
Have care, sister. Confidence and arrogance are not so far apart.
Olivia walked on, still unaware of the plant-being behind her.
-
The office was starting to fill with smoke. The old, wooden desk was merrily crackling now, the stack of papers long-gone and the flask in one drawer glowing from the heat.