Per 
- SCP-XXXX brainstorming
- SCP-####
- Tale 1 Outline
- Ash and Maple ~ Part 1
- Ash and Maple ~ Part 2 Outline
- Ash and Maple ~ Part 2
- Ash and Maple ~ Part 3 Brainstorming
- Ash and Maple ~ Part 3
- Pine Barrens Grove SCP-X
This bit is basically a 'previously on'
Ashley (More properly Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash) is a 'dryad' and the last survivor of her grove. It was the power source for a couple members of SH and was burned down by the GOC.
She was saved by an SH initiate. He, on finding out she couldn't make him a mage, did the unthinkable. He sold her to MC&D.
In writing out this concept, I've realized I need to put together a tale in between part 2 and the skip. In it, Ashley spends some time in MC&D custody, dealing with the betrayal of the SH initiate and being utterly alone. MC&D primarily contain humanoid anomalies by sedating them. She learns this through their attempts to sedate her.
She is sold to the Insurgency (or possibly the GOC)…and there I need to keep doing brainstorming. Anyway, the foundation seizes her in a raid.
This is supposed to be kind of an exploration into the changing attitudes towards humanoid skips, starting just days after 076 killed off Omega-7. I'm not including 076 or anything, just inserting this into the 'timeline' of the Resurrection canon right after. I'm specifically thinking about the paranoia that happens after a traumatic event. For example, aircraft travel after 9/11. The head researcher was close with some members of Omega-7 and so is a little paranoid and absolutely determined not to give this skip any leeway, up to assuming that, as a photosynthetic entity (confirmed by testing), this skip doesn't need physical food.
The containment procedures are revised and that researcher is moved off project (intentionally vague here) when the skip, in desperation, attacks some of the personnel and attempts to eat them. It uses some power saved up to grow the seeds tracked in on their shoes to hold them still. Now, the skip is given more light and raw meat to sustain itself. This is the period (although this is done in the later sections, as opposed to the containment procedures) where the first helpful interviews are given.
The second revision of the containment procedures is done around the time of the present in Resurrection. There are more and more anomalies and the Foundation is starting to look at humanoid skips as if they could be assets to be harnessed rather than to just be contained. They're treated a bit more humanely, and more in keeping with the idea that skips are easier to contain if they're not desperate to escape.
Note that it has gotten access to real sun and moonlight through a close-able skylight in exchange for cooperation with Alpha-9.
The acquisition logs and interviews should note it being seized by the Foundation.
I'd like to include an interview or two from each era, especially around what little thaumaturgy she retained.
SCP-####
Item #: SCP-####
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures
SCP-XXXX is to be contained in a standard humanoid containment unit equipped with growth lights at approximately 400 lumens per square foot. This is deliberately kept at the low range to allow photosynthesis without encouraging growth.
As SCP-XXXX is capable of photosynthesis, contact with edible substances is only to be allowed during tested.
Contact with personnel is to only be allowed during testing, as SCP-XXXX frequently requests contact with human personnel. Personnel showing any attachment to SCP-XXXX, or attempting to breach protocol, are to be transferred.
[[collapsible show="+ Access Containment Procedures Revision 1." hide="- Close File" hideLocation="both"]]
SCP-#### is to be contained in a humanoid containment unit with a reinforced skylight. The skylight should have a cover that can be automatically opened or closed.
No seeds or foods with viable seeds may be brought within twenty (20) meters of SCP-####'s containment cell, except during testing. No live plants may be brought within forty (40) meters of SCP-####'s containment cell, except during testing.
If SCP-#### is non-compliant, protocol is to close the skylight cover for three (3) days.
Under no circumstances is any staff member to attempt to separate SCP-#### from SCP-####-1.
Discovery log
SPC-XXXX was confiscated during a raid on
Description:
SCP-#### is a female humanoid, 1.63 m tall, with green (See Addendum XXXX-1) hair and green eyes. Its skin has a very faint 'wood grain' pattern and colouring that has been matched to acer saccharum or 'Sugar Maple'.
Initiate hiking through the woods, skin buzzing with potential. Talk about how they're trying to bond with a powerful source of magic. Maybe a group of hopefuls? Review the magic system a lil.
Switch to GOC team tailing the initiates. unknown destination, but they're a group of hopefuls and the GOC knows they're going to make contact with an anomalous group (they posit a branch of the SH.) They're under orders to take down both the initiates and the anomalous group.
Switch to Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash. Her worries about a fungus, her interest in meeting humans for the first time, her joy in the creation of new life, her sharing with the others. She sees the initiates arrive and greets them in song with her sisters.
GOC team sees a group of approximately 50 humanoids materialize and freaks out. They engage and when the SH peeps scatter, they fire on the dryads. The dryads are only partially affected, and retaliate with the local plants. The GOC calls in reinforcements and when they're brought in by helicopter, it's brought down by lightning strike. They observe that incendiary grenades targeting the trees have the best effect and use napalm.
an initiate finds the seed they were supposed to use to bond with the grove and instead performs an abridged version of the bonding ritual, bonding Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash to the seed and cutting her off from her tree
Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash wakes in existential agony and for the first time is utterly alone. She clings to the initiate, and is rescued. They run for miles, and hitchhike west.
They are apprehended by the Foundation at the border of Alaska.
Bryan's skin buzzed with magic, but his legs ached from days of hiking. Weeks of sitting in the forest hadn't prepared him for the miles of hiking up and down mountains. He had worked till his hands bled, building temporary Potential by repeating the same small ritual over and over, 18 hours a day, 28 days in a row. The only thing that had kept him sane through that process was the 8 other initiates, sitting with him in a circle around a maple tree.
There wasn't anything special about the maple tree, but several times he could have sworn that a knothole was staring at him. He had grown to resent it, the knothole just sitting there staring at him while he worked himself raw for a chance, just a chance to be accepted as a mage. He checked again that the seed was still in his pocket and walked on.
They practiced as they walked the faint trail, a singing chant in a language like the rustle of wind through leaves, like the groan of a bough heavy with ice, like the whir of seeds spiraling through the air. Its atavistic splendour was rich and heavy in the air around them.
Bryan was sixth in the line. His feet fell on leaves pressed flat into the soft earth by the initiates before him. Behind him, the last two sang and walked. He glanced back, sensing eyes on him, but the girl behind him was focused on traversing the terrain without losing her place in the song.
He looked around uneasily. He still felt eyes on his back. Were there mountain lions in this part of the world? They might be eyeing the three goats the last initiate was leading behind them. Back home in California, if you felt eyes on your back in the wilderness, it was probably a mountain lion…
~~~~~
Assessment Team 763 crept through the forest after the nine fledgling Type Blues. They were on a Response Level 2 mission to trail and eliminate a recently-discovered wing of KTE-Lerna (The Serpent's Hand), dubbed KTE-5325-Lerna-Blue.
763 commander Lena Drummond wished they could get closer, but her Grey Suit wouldn't keep her unseen if she didn't maintain a 30 meter distance between herself and the targets. Plus, (and she was increasingly nervous about this) the third from the back (Dubbed KTE-5325-Lerna-Blue-6) seemed all too aware of her team's presence.
Yeah, they were kids. Hell, the oldest member couldn't be older than 25, but they were members of the Serpent's Hand, and so they were terrorists. Still, she couldn't shake a feeling of apprehension as the six members of her team stalked through the forest.
They needed to get wherever the hell they were going, and soon.
~~~~~
Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash stepped her consciousness out of her tree, new lips forming the words of the song instinctively. She was the youngest dryad in the Grove, having just managed to create a humanoid form last full moon.
She loved it.
She loved the sound of the wind. She could feel the wind in her branches, but having ears? having skin? It was a completely different experience. And colours? She knew what colours were, having experienced them through her links with the rest of the Grove, but she could never have predicted the fact of them on her verdurous eyes.
She turned those eyes on the leaf-strewn ground. It looked like any other patch of earth in this forest, but just beneath the surface, her roots drank the rich earth. She could feel them, through her link with her tree, and through her roots she was linked to all the other dryads in the Grove. She could feel them all, so many ancient minds in harmony with her own. With those minds in harmony, they could call on the collective magical power of the Grove and work their wills on the world around them.
"Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash, would you help me grow rich fruit for the festival?"
She turned and smiled at Strong-Roots-Dig-Deep. She could have communicated through their shared connection to the Grove, but they were the two youngest dryads, and had yet to grow jaded to the novelty of speech. They had spent many lovely hours exploring their new forms together, as well as the curl of magic worked by hands and lips.
"It would be my pleasure," Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash joined Strong-Roots-Dig-Deep in a different song, moving fingers in complex patterns in the power-charged air.
As they sang, seeds carefully collected and stored burst forth with life. The ground around them grew thick and lush with pepper plants and tomatoes, strawberries and snap peas. Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash raced her friend, growing succulent, rich tomatoes faster than Strong-Roots-Dig-Deep could grow her sweet bell peppers. Strong-Roots-Dig-Deep retaliated by playfully wrapping her in pea plants heavy with sugary snap peas, while Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash's strawberries burst into perfect ripeness all around her.
They laughed and sang, collecting the fruits of their labour. When they had almost finished bringing the produce to the large stone at the centre of the Grove, they felt a ripple of attention go through the collective consciousness of the trees.
They're here.
~~~~
Bryan heard the song grow louder, richer, as if their nine voices had been joined by dozens more singing a companion piece. He stopped dividing his attention between his feet and the shadowed forest behind him, and stared forward in shock. Ahead, the sparse undergrowth of the old-growth forest gave way to thick green grass strewn with maple leaves. Inside the border, the old-growth beech-maple forest was replaced with only strong, tall maple trees, much thicker and stronger than the ones outside the border.
"The Grove," he breathed, hearing the initiate in front of him burst into tears of relief. Soon, the ordeal would be over. He would either be a mage or a failure. He could see them now, figures in the trees. He made eye contact with one, a girl who looked about 20 with green hair and an armful of strawberries. She looked as curious about him as he was about her, which surprised him. She had probably seen other humans, but this was definitely the first time he had ever seen a dryad.
~~~~
"Chief, what the fuck are those? Hell, that one just popped out of a fucking tree" Agent Miller messaged Commander Drummond. She halted their pursuit and answered as best she could. She didn't have a clue but it would be bad for morale for her to reply that she was as clueless as they were.
"Designate PTE-Lerna-Hogweed-06. Miller, contact command and request a strike team at our position. Wilcox, it looks like they're about to start a ritual. If it looks like they are about to sacrifice the goats, engage and neutralize the Type Blues before they can complete the Working." Okay. She had a handle on the situation. She hoped.
She turned to survey the other five members of her Assessment team.
"It will take half an hour for the nearest Strike Team to reach our location. If neccessary, we can-"
"Commander, the assumed sacrifices have been transferred to Lerna-Hogweed-06, after an exchange of words. Orders?"
Fuck. She whirled around in time to see one of the green-haired figures bring a hand-sized thorn towards the goat in the lead.
"Stop them, by any means necessary."
~~~
The Grove happily accepted the symbolic gift of the livestock. Deer and moose were not hard to come by here, but goat was a rare treat brought only by visiting humans seeking boons.
Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash felt a dozen more dryads step out of their trees and prepare to see if one of the initiates was well suited to merge with their collective. If one was worthy, they would be granted a connection with the Grove, and given access to some of the powers the dryads themselves wielded.
The initiate in the back, a boy with winter hair and nervous eyes, passed the leads of the goats to Boughs-Bend-in-Summer-Storms. The ancient dryad took the leads with a bow and lead them back to prepare the livestock for the feast. She lifted a thorn made for the purpose, and-
CRACK
Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash felt the pain and surprise through her roots, but the Grove was mostly full of confusion. Why was there a hole in Boughs-Bend-in-Summer-Storms' head? There was a hole in a nearby tree, too. What did it mean? And why were the initiates scattering like dry leaves in the breeze?
~~~
The song vanished, and time slowed as Bryan dived for cover. How the hell was someone shooting at them? He saw the dryad with the goats stumble, a rapidly-filling hole in her head. He saw the confusion ripple through the dryads, strawberries scattering from the arms of the cute one he'd seen earlier, just yards away.
He fled the gunfire… and immediately tripped and fell.
That's it. I'm dead.
—-
"Standard rounds ineffective." Wilcox's voice was calm, collected. This was hardly the first time they'd run into something without an allergy to lead. "Switching to incendiary."
"The fucker is regenerating! Looks like limited regeneration Type Red."
"Miller, profanity. Wilcox, how are the incendiaries working?" She tried to project the collected, powerful leader she had to be.
"More effective, entities are fleeing."
"All units, switch to incendiary munitions. Miller, make sure the Strike Team knows."
—-
There were predators in the forest, and they had brought fire. The trees shuddered with fear. There were few things they truly feared, but fire was one. The initiates were scattered. Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash scooped up the nearest initiate and ran towards her tree. Towards safety.
—
Bryan's arm was a mass of pain, where the strange tree-girl had started to pull him along. The fire in his nerves was echoed by a blast of nearby flame, a maple erupting in a shower of shrapnel and napalm. A nearby dryad collapsed, her steps faltering as her body burned from the inside out. The one pulling him along flinched, sending more pain down his abused arm.
—
A whoop from Miller temporarily distracted Commander Drummond. He had clapped the youngest member of their team on the shoulder, congratulating him.
"The trees are the weak point! Burn the fuckers to the grou-" He collapsed with a gurgle, as vines erupted from the ground, thorns biting into his carotid and ending his exclamation shortly before his life.
-
The Grove burned with anger, elders marshaling defenses they had never needed. Vines whipped from the ground towards the invaders and fog was wrought from thick air. Storm clouds were summoned from the sky and thick pillars of stone rose from beneath the earth, creating physical and magical defenses.
-
Bryan clung to the dryad and survival. The Bookburners! It had to be the Bookburners. They would raze the Grove. It would all burn. She would burn with her tree. He would die. The seed! Maybe he could…?
-
Drummond peered from behind a tree. She had to stifle a laugh at the irony. Her team was dead. Only her silence and stillness had saved her. The Strike team was seconds away. She just had to-
The sustained thunder of the helicopter brought tears to her eyes! She would live!
-
They brought a craft with wings of thunder? Well the Grove could use thunder too.
.
Bryan slapped the seed to the dryad's chest, finishing his chant and dropping a prayer to the universe.
.
Drummond's one unseeing eye reflected the burning, falling helicopter. The other was replaced by a large shard of shrapnel. Falling from her hand, a screen displayed: 'Melville Airstrike inbound 36:02:53'
.
Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash screamed and collapsed, her tree obliterated by a twisting, blazing, shredding mass of metal. Her self was burned and ripped apart. She closed her eyes and wept her first, and last, tears.
.
..
…
A seed cracks open, tiny roots finding their way into the open air.
—-
A figure staggers under the weight of another, one arm hanging uselessly. He drags his makeshift travois between two columns. Her head bounces gently, hand clutching a seedling to her chest.
~~~
A pair of green eyes open.
End of Part 1
The airstrike wakes up Ash, and she meets Bryan while trying to cope with being alone.
She reacts with horror on realizing that one of the two branches forming the travois is all that's left of her best friend Strong-Roots-Dig-Deep.
Bryan expects powers in return for saving her life.
She can't give him any, but she's terrified that if she tells him that, he'll abandon her. (maybe not. she's hella naive.)
As they continue, he's growing increasingly resentful. He has devoted months of his life to this, only to watch his chance go up in smoke. He had saved her. She owed him. emphasize that he isn't a 'true believer'
she refuses to abandon the travois when she can walk, so they each take a branch. They discuss that some druids had been given branches that amplified their powers (staffs).
She doesn't mention that the grove the tree's connected to needs to be active. or maybe she says it in a way that he misinterprets as she won't.
They make it to the Alaskan border and cross it with little difficulty, but run into a MCD delivery at a truck stop. He turns her in for a truly obscene amount of money. (which he doesn't get.)
She spends a little time in MCD custody, but the GOC/insurgency? buys her, because 'she's related to 12 SH members losing their powers.' In transit, Foundation personnel collect her, starved for sentient company and sunlight.
Part 2
Alone.
The dryad was alone.
The secret language of the dryads didn't even have a word for being alone. Being a dryad meant being interconnected with every other dryad in the Grove. It meant a hundred thoughts, experiences, lives, all humming in the background.
She remembered the feeling of a falling metal beast ripping and tearing her tree to pieces. Remembered the blades pulverizing her branches. The blood of the beast burning through her bark and scorching to her heartwood. The screaming and panic pouring into her and overflowing and suddenly… ceasing as the world went dark and quiet.
Empty and alone.
She felt her body jolt as the branches under her dug into her back. There was a sensation of movement and a constant stream of muttered curses. She exercised control of this form, and opened her eyes to the impossible.
The forest stretched out around her, but it wasn't the Grove. She couldn't feel the roots beneath her and the forest was full of beeches. She did see maples, but they seemed… wrong. Sickly?
Some movement caught her eye and she saw the smoke. The smoke of her home, her body, her family, billowing into the uncaring ashen sky. She felt the aching absence and wept.
~~~
Bryan limped through the forest, muttering curses. Years. Years spent seeking power had led to months preparing for this day which had become a catastrophe in minutes.
He deserved that magic. He had earned that magic. Yeah his teachers in the Serpent's Hand had stressed that it was a gift to be given, but none of them had saved the last member of the Grove with a never-before-tried Working.
And how had he been repaid so far? The crazy tree-chick had yanked him across the forest, then flopped to the ground screaming.
He hissed in pain as a step jolted his arm. It dangled uselessly by his side, steadily turning purple.
~~~
A sound like dry leaves rustling brought the dryad back to reality. It was the sound of another person! She jerked, falling off the two branches on which she was being supported. Her body impacted the ground and she tried to scramble back up. She felt… wrong, like a plant trapped in a too-small pot, roots tangling and filling the space so completely it cracked the pot. At the same time, she felt light and empty, truly hungry for the first time.
One of the humans! Right! She had tried to save one and it looked like she had been saved by one. She looked up at him and tried to remember how to speak.
"Hey." His voice held a rasp like the edge of a saw. She tried to recoil away and hit her head on the limbs still held in his hand.
"Chill. We got away from them, for now. We gotta keep moving though. A helicopter crash won't kill a Bookburner Strike Team, not in those damn suits. They'll probably spend some time burning the Grove but I haven't been able to mask our trail."
The dryad was filled with a sense of loss so profound she was amazed the human could stand under the weight of it. She tried to speak but didn't quite have the shape of it.
"You yanked my arm out of its socket, damn near ripped it off." The saw blade was near the surface of his voice again, painful and angry. She watched his mouth. So that's what she was doing wrong.
"Badrieee" She whispered urgently. No, that still wasn't quite right.
"Now would be a good time to whip out some magic" He looked at her, expectant.
"My tree." She managed to work her mouth correctly, and clung weakly to the branch he was holding.
"Burned to a crisp, probably. I think yours was one of the first to go. Come on, we need to move." The words were like a blow. It was fresh and bleeding in her mind, the metal beast falling on her tree, its spinning blade shredding her and burning blood scorching her heartwood. She cried out in remembered agony, and the human made a noise like the wind through dry leaves.
"Shush and come on. The least you can do is walk on your own."
She flailed again, struggled to her knees, and somehow managed to stand.
"My tree! How…?" She tried a step, and narrowly avoided falling.
"I used the Grove initiation spell to bind you to that seed." He pointed to her chest where she had been clutching it without realizing. That explained why she felt so compressed, so root-bound. It also explained why she felt so wrong. He had yanked her… self? Soul? Spirit? out of her tree and shoved it into a tiny seed. It had sprouted during the process. The human dropped the branches and started walking. She immediately grabbed the two, tied together with a strip of leather.
"These are part of Strong-Roots-Dig-Deep."
She realized that this might be all that was left of her best friend. The only thing, apart from her, left of the Grove. She would not abandon them, not for any price.
"Okay…? I guess we can bring the sticks if you want. At least we're moving."
He turned, left arm hanging uselessly by his side.
"I'm Bryan, by the way," He unfastened the leather and put it around his waist. This accomplished, he picked up one limb, and she relinquished it reluctantly. She still had the one in her hand, and it seemed they were going in the same direction. Even through the anguish, she felt a little thrill. Somehow, she was outside the Grove! She was somewhere no dryad had ever been!
"Thank you for saving me."
"And your name is…?" The saw was back. Had she broached some rule of etiquette?
"My name was Seedlings-Spring-from-Cold-Ash," A beautiful name in Dryad, rendered ugly and twisted by irony.
"My Dryad isn't great. How does that translate to English?" She worked out the translation.
"Seedlings Spring from Cold Ash," The words tasted like ash in her mouth, too.
"Jesus. That's apt. And lengthy. What do you mean by 'was'?" He winced a little with every step.
"I died when the metal beast hit me. In the instants before the flame ate this body, you attached me to this seedling. Thank you. But I am dead. Do the dead have names?" He was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, but she paid no mind. Step after step, she walked the outside world. A miracle made of death and desperation.
"Metal beast? Oh… you mean the helicopter…" He seemed to think on this for a bit, "I think I'll call you Ashley. I don't want to stumble over your whole name every time."
Ashley accepted this and took yet more impossible steps into the unknown.
~~~
Bryan tried to keep in mind the lesson drilled into him by his instructor in the Serpent's Hand.
'Being chosen by the Grove is a gift. No matter how long you work, most of you won't be chosen. This isn't, as I've heard some of you suggest, an easy path. You will need to work hard to even get a chance, but that work does not obligate them to choose you.'
But he hadn't just done the preparations. He had saved Ashley's life and saved the Grove. That had to entitle him to the joining. She would have to make another seed for him to use, but he'd seen his instructor bring plants to fruit with her powers, granted by the Grove.
Ashley was quiet. She seemed to have gotten the hang of walking and was following him steadily. She had one hand clutched with the seedling on her chest, and the other was holding the branch he'd picked up. He could understand why she would be hesitant to let go of the last reminder of her friend. He had a locket from his mother around his neck- he had ever since she died a decade ago.
"Where are we going?" Her voice seemed a little stronger. He stopped, looking around.
Fuck. Well if we can get back to Alaska, I might be able to get us to the Way. That's if she ever gives me what she owes me.
"West!" He tried to project as much confidence as he could into the single word.
They walked in silence for a time. Finally, a question bothered him enough to break it.
"Why don't you wear clothes?" Ashley looked down at her form and gave him a confused look.
"Why would I wear cloth?"
"Don't you get cold? We're in the Yukon Territory. This is Canada. Canada is known three things: maple syrup, hockey, and snow to the frigging rooftops."
She gave him a look that was, for lack of a better word, wooden.
"We can- we could control the weather. Why bind ourselves with strips of cloth and leather when we could wear the wind and sky?"
"Well if we're going to make it around humans you're going to need to we- what do you mean 'could'?
"Our magic came from the connection and communion between the members of the Grove. We each contributed a drop to the pool."
"So you can't give me power?"
"I'm sorry, I don't have any to give. Every drop of magic I have is going to sustaining my form."
He couldn't quell the anger and frustration, so he tried to cover two of his problems.
"Here. Wear my jacket. Someone might see you."
Silence reigned until they, battered and weary, reached the road.
~~~
Ashley examined the meal on the plate before her. Two glistening yolks sat atop their whites, which in turn sat atop a thin crust of burnt egg. The bacon was three short strips of grease on a pale square approximating bread. It made her wince, remembering the perfect sweet strawberries she'd just dropped on the forest floor.
The branch sat across her lap. It was a little awkward in the cracked booth, but she wouldn't abandon it. She was a little nervous about Bryan taking it. He'd left behind the one he'd been carrying, and she didn't like the way his eyes lingered on hers.
Very occasionally, the Grove would grant a branch to a special mage. It would enhance their connection to the collective and allow them to pull more magic from the communal pool. Strong-Roots-Dig-Deep's branch wouldn't do that, though. She and the rest of the Grove were dead. Ashley was terrified of Bryan abandoning her. If he did, she would be completely alone. She took a calming breath and glanced around.
Bryan sat two tables away, talking to himself. Ashley only caught a few phrases but they were even less encouraging than the meal.
"…down the drain… could be lying…? years… damn it… my only option… dark"
He moodily stomped outside. Ashley returned her attention to breakfast. Normally, dryads didn't need to eat more than two or three times a moon. They did so for pleasure, normally, but she felt odd. It felt like she hadn't eaten in years. She obviously needed more sustenance than her tiny seedling could supply her.
It made sense- it had taken her decades of growth in her tree to be able to manifest a humanoid form. Hopefully she would be able to sustain herself by eating and whatever her seedling could supply. And, she reflected disgustedly, hopefully other food would actually have flavour.
~~~
They stayed the night in a motel. It was clearly Ashley's first experience with a bed. She lay, face down, sideways across it. She was still clutching the stick in one hand and the seedling in the other.
Brandon himself couldn't help but pace, nerves overwhelming what little self control he had left. He had been warned away from these people so many times by his mentors in the Serpent's Hand. They had no morals or ethics, caring only for the power and money they could accrue. His mentors had told him how to avoid them. He'd used that information to contact one of their agents.
It was against everything the Serpent's Hand stood for and he would need to run after this. He would definitely have the resources if he could pull this off. It would be worth it.
Because he had realized something.
She couldn't empower him because she was alone.
And he knew the people at Marshall, Carter, and Dark would pay well for the last of a kind.
End Part 2
Chat - phantom, stormbreath
Forums - ratsy
flashes and jumbles of a parking lot, Bryan selling her, the acquisition agents, a bed with an IV. She knows what an IV is because a few mages have been linked with the grove in the past, and become part of the collective. Cover that even if she had the magic, bryan was too self-centred to be part of the collective. He couldn't subsume his self to the whole.
Each time they realize she's awake, they use the same anomalous artefact to render her unconscious. They remove the seedling from her person, but return it to her when she immediately begins to crumble and decompose.
The branch is considered part of the lot with her.
She learns to pretend to be inert. To pull her consciousness back into the seedling, even though it makes it hard to think. Hard to focus.
Focus on her sense of isolation. At first she tries to talk to them, and they render her unconscious.
Look at her struggle to figure out magic again.
Backlash.
Abilities: Communicate with plants, direct and accelerate plant growth, limited regeneration (of her 'body' not her plant)
Ashley was getting tired of being unconscious. She
She remembered
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