John Steinbeck (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
graftage) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
overjoyed_logs2017-02-04 07:42 pm
graftage) wrote in overjoyed_logs2017-02-04 07:42 pm
(CLOSED) we know how the parasite plants grow and prosper
Who: John Steinbeck and Julius Visconti
Where: Near the Bazaar on Leith
When: End of week 4
Summary: Steinbeck tries out his gruesome plant abilities and happens to have an onlooker when he isn't suspecting it.
Restrictions/Warnings: Descriptions of body horror, self-harm, and blood, most likely, will add other tags if needed
[The sickness has passed. Steinbeck is back to his regular healthy self again, free of pain and worry.]
[And yet, oddly enough, here he is, pushing the tip of a knife into his neck casually as if this is just as common a habit as brushing one's teeth. It isn't that surprising for a Scarback to cut themselves up - it's in the name, after all - but this time is a little different.]
[This time, he needs to make room for something to grow.]
[He's sitting somewhere on the outskirts of the Bazaar, a potted plant of some kind nestled in his lap as he makes the cut in his neck. Nobody will come looking here, which is good, because this ability of his is not something he wants as common knowledge. This is his connection to the Mother Tree, this is sacred, this is practically his ritual of getting more in tune with his faith. It's a gruesome ritual, sure, but he craves it the same way a prophet craves the voice of their god. It puts him on a spiritual plane that he doesn't want to step down from.]
[After the cut is made, he pulls out the bag of pods in his robes, pulling one out - it looks very much like a seed, but it's far more than that. It's a special little thing with so much potential, and Steinbeck wastes no time in pushing it into the bleeding wound on his neck.]
[The effect is immediate. His body, altered by so many enhancements, gives instantaneous life to the pod. He barely winces as the roots dive into his blood vessels, eager for nutrients, and the sprout pushes out of his skin like it's bursting out of the soil. It grows at an alarming rate, crackling as the vines become thick and strong, grape-like fruit inflating in seconds like they're tiny balloons. He practically is his own orchard. He could make it grow indefinitely, but he halts it, his breath short as he gets used to the experience of his body being used as nothing but a source of life for the plant.]
[He's done this countless times, but this time, he wants to try something new. He turns his gaze to the plant in his hands, and with the power of his will, he sends a couple of vines to wrap around the base of the plant, trying his best to connect with it. He's never tried it before, but he's curious as to whether he can integrate his own plants with others. Perhaps this could work. He wants it to work. He puts all his concentration into the act, eager for success.]
[The problem is, he's so engrossed in his experiment that he doesn't even see that somebody has been watching the whole time.]
Where: Near the Bazaar on Leith
When: End of week 4
Summary: Steinbeck tries out his gruesome plant abilities and happens to have an onlooker when he isn't suspecting it.
Restrictions/Warnings: Descriptions of body horror, self-harm, and blood, most likely, will add other tags if needed
[The sickness has passed. Steinbeck is back to his regular healthy self again, free of pain and worry.]
[And yet, oddly enough, here he is, pushing the tip of a knife into his neck casually as if this is just as common a habit as brushing one's teeth. It isn't that surprising for a Scarback to cut themselves up - it's in the name, after all - but this time is a little different.]
[This time, he needs to make room for something to grow.]
[He's sitting somewhere on the outskirts of the Bazaar, a potted plant of some kind nestled in his lap as he makes the cut in his neck. Nobody will come looking here, which is good, because this ability of his is not something he wants as common knowledge. This is his connection to the Mother Tree, this is sacred, this is practically his ritual of getting more in tune with his faith. It's a gruesome ritual, sure, but he craves it the same way a prophet craves the voice of their god. It puts him on a spiritual plane that he doesn't want to step down from.]
[After the cut is made, he pulls out the bag of pods in his robes, pulling one out - it looks very much like a seed, but it's far more than that. It's a special little thing with so much potential, and Steinbeck wastes no time in pushing it into the bleeding wound on his neck.]
[The effect is immediate. His body, altered by so many enhancements, gives instantaneous life to the pod. He barely winces as the roots dive into his blood vessels, eager for nutrients, and the sprout pushes out of his skin like it's bursting out of the soil. It grows at an alarming rate, crackling as the vines become thick and strong, grape-like fruit inflating in seconds like they're tiny balloons. He practically is his own orchard. He could make it grow indefinitely, but he halts it, his breath short as he gets used to the experience of his body being used as nothing but a source of life for the plant.]
[He's done this countless times, but this time, he wants to try something new. He turns his gaze to the plant in his hands, and with the power of his will, he sends a couple of vines to wrap around the base of the plant, trying his best to connect with it. He's never tried it before, but he's curious as to whether he can integrate his own plants with others. Perhaps this could work. He wants it to work. He puts all his concentration into the act, eager for success.]
[The problem is, he's so engrossed in his experiment that he doesn't even see that somebody has been watching the whole time.]
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And so he watches, one hand on the hilt of his sword - observing, noting the appearance of the sprouted plant and the fruits that grow along it (just how long can this man sustain this without killing himself?) and the vines that are then directed towards the potted plant in his hands. It's an act that would have probably grossed out other people, but Julius merely watches with quiet (and perhaps a little morbid) interest.
(He will not remember it now, but he will remember it in due time - black and white vines racing towards the heavens, twisting together and their growth directed to form a tree by his own hands.)
An interfacer, perhaps? Not quite what he was sent to investigate, but worth looking at nevertheless. It's only after Steinbeck has linked the two plants together that he steps forward to get a closer look, still silent.
He might be noticed now, or he might be noticed only later. Either way, he'll probably put his directive on hold for now. ]
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[The plant in the pot grows. It shoots up to about an extra foot of it's previous height. Steinbeck lets out a laugh, surprised and delighted, and he sees movement out of the corner of his eye-]
[There's someone here.]
[Steinbeck drops the pot - it shatters loudly, his vines retracting from the potted plant instantly as he stands up, his eyes wide.]
H-hey! [The vines out of his neck move like agitated snakes. He looks like a cornered animal.] W-what are you doing? Go away! This...don't look!!
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Explain yourself, please.
[ Julius keeps his countenance even - stoic, without any trace of hostility. He doesn't have anything in his hands, nor is he armed with anything more than a particularly fancy sword. He won't harm Steinbeck if he's not doing anything that falls within his Enforcement duties. ]
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[He's floundering, he really is. He feels his heart is racing a mile a minute. He recognizes the uniform. This is very, very bad. If he runs, then he can be placed under suspicion, and that would be the end of John Steinbeck: Resistance fighter.]
[He clenches his fists at his sides, trying to figure out a way to explain.]
It's just...it's a way for me to be closer. To the Mother Tree, that is. I...I did this to myself.
[It's best to tell the truth, but not the whole truth. It's better than trying to come up with a particularly bad lie on the spot.]
also i see he and lapis are friends too, would he have heard of julius (they are also friends)
It's a shame, really, that the reason had to be this. Fervour, religious or not, could create many things, and his mother was a prime example. For a moment, he remembers - strapped to a table, her voice over the intercoms, lilting but cold, as she burns pain into his frame, a boy of not yet fifteen.
And then it's over, as easily as one would sweep aside a loose curtain. Truly a shame, that this world is so full of madness to make even monks suffer. ]
I am not here to arrest you. [ That, he has to make clear. He may be armed and in uniform, but his voice is calm. He's good at keeping his expression under control; but if Steinbeck looks at his eyes, he would see that the Enforcer looks almost... a little sad. ] I only happened to be passing by.
[ From one biologically modified person to another. ]
Is this part of your training?
[ Again: not interrogative, merely curious. ]
probably yes! but he knows the name, not the face, i would assume
[So, he keeps his distance, his muscles taut, unwillingly to relax. The man looks sad (how strange), but Steinbeck is as scared and strangely defiant as ever.]
That so. [He says, a bit of a sneer curling over his lips.] And no, it isn't...I mean, the cutting is, but I, well, I took it a step further...this is my personal way of getting close to the ideal, you know?
so they can exchange names and know each other >:)b
[ It's all in the job, they say. He's not going to question further, since Steinbeck isn't going to tell him more. ]
What is your name?
exactly >8)c
[He frowns. He wants to leave, he really does, but he can't. He just has to stay here and answer questions and hope he doesn't get in trouble.]
And who are you?
yes good
Julius Visconti. Do you know Lapis?
[ A mutual friend??? ]
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[Julius. The name brings a spark of recognition. He's heard of a Julius. Lapis has talked about him.]
[Steinbeck finds himself stepping back, somehow even more wary though he now has a better picture of who this man is.]
Yes, I do. How do you know her?
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She helped me with an investigation. We have been in contact since.
[ He's kind of shy so no 'friend' for now, but that's the truth at least. ]
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[So Lapis trusted him. That doesn't let him off the hook yet. Steinbeck lets his vines slowly wrap around his arm, forming a very leafy sleeve as he looks over the other, his eyes narrowed.]
I don't like your kind. [Well, somebody's brutally honest.] If you hurt her, I won't take kindly to that, understand?
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[ He's polite, that much is evident. There's no aggression or puffing up of pride that would have been expected of your typical run-of-the-mill Enforcer. ]
Do you garden?
[ julius what kind of a question is this ]
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[The question catches him off guard. Steinbeck blinks, expression turning to one of confusion. He's not expecting a Company Enforcer, of all things, to chat about gardening.]
Uh, I do, when I can. [He spares a glance to the vines sprouting out of his neck.] Though I guess it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.
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Lapis likes flowers. [ Julius is bad at conversation and he's trying his best. ] I intend to gift her an air plant, but these sort of plants do not ordinarily have flowers. Do you have recommendations?
[ It's a problem he has to solve and being an Enforcer leaves terribly short time for shopping. Also, it might be Steinbeck's hobby, so that might help. ]
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[He clears his throat awkwardly.]
An air plant? Well, with flowers, I'd recommend guzmania, probably. I mean, air plants don't have like, actual flowers, but guzmania is colorful enough, I think.
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Thank you.
[ He says this with as much seriousness as if Steinbeck had just done him a large favour. ]
Any specific breed?
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[He peers at Julius, eyebrows furrowed - what are his intentions, exactly?]
Hey, are you trying to date her, or something?
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I owe her a debt and it must be repaid.
[ aka 'they're friends' but he's too awkward and shy to ever say that out loud to a stranger, especially a stranger who doesn't quite like him. ]
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[Fine. FINE. He'll give Julius the benefit of the doubt. If Lapis can trust him, maybe he can. Maybe.]
Anyways, like I said before. Don't you dare hurt her or drag her into your damn Company business.
[A few vines unravel from his arm, rearing like cobras.]
Just don't.
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He's met a few people who are more forgiving, but most are not. Like Steinbeck. ]
I know.
[ No pride, no impatience - just a flat tone and the slightest hint of resignation. ]
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[The vines go back to his arm, and he beams wide - well, now he's got another person on his list to look after. Great.]
Don't tell anyone what you saw. I'd like to keep this personal and private, you get me?
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Of course. [ He has his own secrets as well, he certainly can respect that. ] Are they grapes?
[ Well, they look like grapes? ]
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{He reaches over to prod at one of the bundles - they're a lovely dark purple color, ripe as ripe can be.]
I don't know if they can be eaten, though. I don't think I want to try.
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[ They're definitely not natural grapes.
Plants are innocent. Plants cannot commit crimes. Plants are... the good things in this world. Real plants, natural plants... ]
They might have hidden, useful properties. I think you should look into them.
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[Despite himself, he looks somewhat intrigued. He's never really given much thought to the grapes, only really the vines.]
I mean, I can't imagine what grapes could do.
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[ Special grapes. Maybe neurotoxins? He could guess. ]
What matters is what is inside them, I would think.
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[He shrugs.]
What, are you saying I should make people eat them and see what happens? [He draws up a vine, a bundle of ripe grapes dangling from their end near his face. He smiles, looking a little wicked.] Want to try?
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Extraction and analysis may be more efficient.
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[What a spoilsport. Eh, whatever, now he's got a line of questions he can pursue, thanks Julius.]
I can't say I've got any kind of extraction and analysis expertise, though.
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I know someone who does chemical work. You may be able to consult him. You can move about as a Scarback, no? [ Julius starts flipping through his tablet. ] I can send you his number if you wish.
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[That's...concerning, somehow. They've literally just met, and the man is already trying to give him an edge up on how his powers work.]
I...yeah, I can move around, but... [Here's the mistrust coming back in again.] Are you getting anything out of this?
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[ There's that gesture again - his expression doesn't change, but his eyes darken a little. ]
You do not like my kind. That is justified. There are those in the Company whose objective is to use their power for their own game. A small fraction of those employed, however... only do it because they have no choice.
[ Julius looks down at his hand, only for a brief moment. ]
I do not expect you to like me. I only wish for your safety. [ If Lapis trusts him, then he also has a measure of faith. ] You do not deserve to be taken advantage of by others.
[ His own history isn't a matter that he wishes to discuss, so he leaves it at that. ]
Keep yourself safe, John Steinbeck. Lapis would cry if you died.
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[He doesn't know what to say to that. "Lapis will cry if you died". How morbid do you have to be? Steinbeck gulps, his vines curling as takes a step back.]
I, uh, sure will. Don't worry. I try to keep her safe, y'know?
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Take care.
[ And that is all. ]