hadriel_logs | Surveying

Entry tags:

carlisle longinmouth

Surveying

Who: Carlisle Longinmouth (

tongueamok), OTA
What: A catch-all for late April/early May in which a skittish clergyman decides that collecting some new plants from the local selection is a good idea
Where: Outskirts of the city
When: Late April - Early May (feel free to either be affected by the events going on or not!)
Warnings: Lots of plants and a guy being pedantic about plants.

For the second time since he'd been spirited away from Bear Den, Carlisle found himself in a jungle. Having spent his entire life in the mountains, he hadn't been ready the first time: no amount of reading could have prepared him for the sweltering heat, no books having accurately described how the atmosphere was so wet and stifling that even the shade of the canopy above brought little respite. Despite that, even he had to admit it was, thus far, better than the camp near the Tranquility, as the river wasn't acidic, the jungle wasn't inhabited by insectoid natives (that he knew of), and the citizens weren't being psychically attacked by a living abomination of a ship every minute of every day.

Of course, being put through the wringer by the gods on a regular basis wasn't that much of an improvement, but Carlisle was willing to take what he could get in this circumstance. He still had his house, and that house had a bath. Unlike the makeshift camp near the wreck of the Tranquility, he could wash away the sweat and grime of the day with ease. The value of that luxury was absolutely immeasurable.

He also still had his garden, and though it no longer needed the magical dome to keep out the chill, he found it still helped regulate the temperature inside, keeping it comfortable for his plants -- and himself when he was in there. As much as he didn't like to venture too far from the familiar safety and relative comfort of his garden, he was curious as to what flora this new world had to offer, particularly when it came to what he could grow for himself. It wasn't that he didn't have plenty to tend to already, certainly not with how fast the coilers grew; however, the colorful leaves and vibrant flowers that dotted the landscape around them were painfully enticing, even to someone as cowardly as him.

And so he took to venturing out on rare occasions, carrying with him his pruning shears and a few supplies in his satchel. Though there was plenty of heat and sun to go around, he stubbornly refused to wear anything less than long sleeves and slacks, his worn-out tabard left behind for a change. Maybe he felt it'd get in the way, or ruined further, or maybe he'd just decided his poor tabard has seen enough of a jungle for one lifetime.

The brush is dense, too overgrown for him to travel far, but anyone wandering might find him scavenging, stooped near some peculiar flowers, collecting bark and branches from nearby trees, rolling leaves in cloth and storing seeds in bottles. Others might stumble upon him trying to encourage a gaudy beetle to walk into a jar, the bug refusing to budge and him frustrated as he nudges it with a twig. Or perhaps they come upon him that time he's stuck high in a tree as what appears to be a large cat, its brown fur peppered with patches of silver and grey, stalks the ground below.

But no matter what finds Carlisle doing, he's sure to be snitty about it. The heat will do that.

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When you're the master of your own body temperature, the climates have next to no meaning anymore. It's not that Rey can't feel them; she just doesn't suffer the hurdle of having to adjust her attire in order to be comfortable. For someone who's had to inhabit multiple bodies over her many lives, finding comfort in her own skin isn't so easy to come by -- it's so rarely even her own skin.

Even more uncomfortable are the shifting of the planets, which have less to do with the weather and more to do with... everything else. The terrain shift in everything can be disorienting, especially after spending so long learning the lay of the land on the last planets, only to have to do it all over again.

And that's exactly what she's been doing. When not at the bar or sleeping at home, she's figuring out what they can find in the jungle that could provide cover and aid in the event of an attack. Now that they're no longer confined by cavern walls, people have more ground to find cover in. That's only most effective if they know how to make the best of it.

Rey has climbed on a vine-covered tree when she hears Carlisle's adjacent voice. Despite her weight, the thick branches offer generous support as she hops from one tree to the next, grasping foliage to keep herself balanced and on the high ground. She doesn't have to do this for long before she catches sight of Carlisle himself, seemingly stranded by his lonesome up among a tree that she would have to think twice before leaping towards. Grasping the base, she swings her body to get a better look at the man, his blue-shaded clothing clashing with the vibrant verdancy of the forest.

"Oh, look at that -- a little woodling creature," Rey comments, looking at Carlisle when she says this despite noting the big cat lurking below, so she may very well be speaking in jest.

Carlisle almost doesn't hear Rey over the sound of his own voice, his seventeen, panicked reassurances to himself that this is fine carrying farther than he'd anticipated. He can't say he's not grateful for the company, however, especially when it's someone he knows to have experience with jungles, even if she doesn't recall them.

"Ah, Miss Rey," he starts, only to realize she's addressing him with her remark. His initial relief dissipates. "You- aheh, you are far too, ah. Far too comfortable in the jungle, with those sorts of remarks about, um. Creatures. Like that one down there. Not me. Obviously."

His comment gets a stifled snort out of her.

"Comfortable? Hardly. Just familiar."

Much like the last terrain, Rey knows the jungle. She would prefer to know it a little more, but being able to use the planet to their advantage is the first step. After that...? Well, she'll figure out the rest.

She nods down at the stalking feline. "Seen a couple of those around. Probably better to keep a distance." So Carlisle's current position might not be such a bad idea, all things considered.

"Oh?" Carlisle asks, looking down at the cat creature again, deciding that while he's afraid of heights and not sure how he's going to get down, his position of being in the tree rather than on the ground is probably for the best. "Can, um. Can they climb? As most felines are able to do?"

And more importantly, if they can, can she deal with it?

"Don't know. Probably. Maybe wait and see what it does before making any sudden moves?"

Rey would really rather not have to hurt an animal just trying to get by unless she has to. They're not that desperate for food and supplies at this time for her to really justify it.

"I have been waiting," Carlisle grumbles with a sigh, "but to no avail." He supposes he can wait a while longer -- it's not as though the tree he's sitting in is going anywhere.

He pats the side of the limb he's sitting on, an offer for her to join him. "Do you recall the last time we were in a jungle, Miss Rey?"

Pratt quite literally crashes through the underbrush right near Carlisle. He lands on his back, squishing a shrub down into nothingness. The yell he lets out is startling, but also triumphant.

"Ha! Gotcha." He rolls over, holding something brownish to his chest with both hands and struggling to get to his feet without letting it go. "Stop it! Not gonna hurt you. Yeouch! Way too many teeth, knock it off."

He finally manages to get somewhat standing, crouched around a small furry creature with way too many legs that's not at all happy about being caught.

Startling indeed -- Carlisle nearly jumps out of his own skin, the beetle he'd been cajoling toward the jar immediately forgotten as he lets out a yelp himself and darts behind the nearest tree, scattering the papers and illustrations he had sitting nearby. He only realizes it's Pratt once the man starts talking again, trying to convince the creature he's got in his grasp (or maybe Carlisle himself, given his proclivity for talking through his teeth) that he's not looking to hurt them.

The clergyman peers from behind the tree, wielding the twig he'd been prodding the beetle as though it were a sword, his voice squeaky and unsteady as he attempts to regain his composure. "Ah- ah, Deputy. I didn't hear you, um. I didn't hear you approach. Probably intentional, if you were, ah. Sneaking up on that, er. That, ah... What- what is it you've got there, exactly?"

Edited 2019-04-21 01:40 (UTC)

Pratt is smiling as he gets to his feet, clutching his prey to his chest. The mighty hunter.

"I have no idea!" He shifts his fingers around to get a better grip on it, it's something like a very small deer, about the size of a cat, with ten legs and small knobby antlers. It bleats pathetically while he holds it out to inspect it, kicking all those legs in a feeble protest. "It's a baby of the larger deer things that climb the trees, I've been tracking it for a while. Cute little sucker."

He sounds absolutely delighted, taking no notice of how terrified Carlisle was nor that he's being threatened with a twig.

Carlisle leans away from the critter as its legs flail, each and every one of them failing to convince Pratt to drop it. In good news, Pratt himself seems... surprisingly upbeat about his conquest. Proud. Happy, even. Needless to say, it's a look Carlisle hasn't seen him wear very often, given only glimpses of such demeanor when he presented Pratt with a warding stone.

He lowers the twig, putting his other hand to his chest as he smiles in nervous relief. "Ah, a juvenile. You, um. You did make sure to deal with the mother first, did you not? In some way?"

The creature goes to it's fallback plan which is to start chomping on the buttons of Pratt's horrible Hawaiian shirt, but since that isn't his fingers, the Deputy seems fine with this.

"Mom got eaten by something huge and purple with wings. And this little guy..." His face falters and he raises his arms up to look underneath his new deer friend, correcting himself, "girl, was running around making all kinds of sad noises and probably about to be dessert. I don't even know if it's weaned yet so I was going to catch it and give it some food. Very much did not want to be caught though."

Probably because after being traumatized by it's mother being carried off for dinner, the sight of a human chasing it was extra terrifying.

"What are you doing out here? What's with all the paper?"

The creature is an orphan, then. That makes Carlisle feel a bit better about Pratt capturing it -- it was for its safety, even if it had no idea because the man literally chased it down.

Setting the twig aside, he starts collecting his papers, pushing some of the brush aside to reach the pages that slipped beneath it. The pages themselves contain not just notes, Carlisle's script small and a bit shaky, but also pictures, carefully rendered illustrations plants and flowers native to the world around them. He has an almost scientific way of drawing, each figure labeled to describe the subject in full detail.

"I was trying to take note of the plant life around us," he replies, "for my garden, should I transplant any there. And there is this insect I thought might..."

He trails off, the aforementioned insect now nowhere in sight. "Cisth. There was this insect, rather, but I suppose I may find another, if I am out here long enough."

Pratt clutches it to his chest, holding tight while he reaches into his pocket for some rope, trying to not spook it as he ties a makeshift harness around the creature.

"Found anything edible?" Which he realizes isn't the most important thing considering the shops are still stocked with canned goods, but he misses the orchard so much, a fresh.. whatever the hell fruits there are out here would be amazing. "I didn't squash it did I? I'm sorry, didn't know anyone else was out here."

He gently sets the spider deer on the ground, letting her gather all those legs so she can make a dash for freedom, only to be pulled back by the harness. She bleats like a sheep before turning to try and gnaw on the rope. When that is also unsuccessful she plops down in the shade of one of the shrubs and starts the long process of licking ten legs clean.

"No no, I believe it wandered away in my moment of terror," Carlisle states matter-of-factly, given moments of terror are not terribly uncommon for him. "I've yet to see anything that looked safe to eat, but then again, I have been focusing primarily on leaves and flowers. Whatever fruit there may be likely grows higher up, as anything on the ground would have been scavenged by the local wildlife."

He gestures toward the spider deer. Hopefully, whatever she needs for her diet won't be too troublesome for Pratt to obtain, though that does bring to mind another question:

"Did you see the mother? How big will she be?"

"About the size of a regular deer, but with all these legs they look a bit bigger." He holds his hand about five feet off the ground. Granted he's kind of extrapolating what he saw because he wasn't that close at the time. "I think she'll be good to fend for herself in a week or so. Assuming I can get her to eat solid food."

And if not there will be a wonderful mess in Pratt's kitchen as he mushes up plants and fruits for her to eat.

"Yeah I asked Jo if anyone had tried to eat anything out here and had to be rushed to the Clinic because it was poisonous, but she hadn't heard of anything yet. Maybe people are smart enough to not eat the potentially deadly jungle fruit." Which means someone has to figure out a different way to see what's edible or not. Or take one for the team and find out the hard way. "I did notice some sort of round green fruit with a rind but when I peeled it it was full of bugs. So I'm not sure anything out here is good for human consumption."

"I would not risk it, if possible," Carlisle says, his nose wrinkling at the very thought of a bug-filled fruit. "Those who trust the false gods can eat the food they provide, and those of us who do not will sustain ourselves otherwise. Glacius hunts."

And Carlisle eats that, because he is painfully incapable of fending for himself in such a manner. Though trained in trapping and tracking, his skills are novice, at best, and he's not sure any trap he could set would hold the wildlife he's seen so far. Even his attempt to catch a beetle failed. He sighs, feeling pathetic, as usual.

He looks to the spider deer in her harness, having a seat on the ground as he finds a clean piece of paper. Might as well take notes while he can. "You're keeping her as livestock, then? Or a pet? Surely she cannot rejoin the wild if hand-reared."

"I suppose I could get a breeding colony of these things and then there'd be plenty of meat and hide, but I'm not sure how to keep them contained. They can climb trees." He says it a little wistfully looking at his tiny captive. He's not adverse to keeping livestock or butchering them, and he's already skinned a few mammoths on the ice planet. But this thing is adorable.

He reaches down to stroke its ears which it seems to tolerate while engaged in the important task of grooming, "Fortunately they don't climb too well when they're this young or I never would have caught her."

Which is definitely not answering the question about if he's going to keep it as a pet. Moving on.

"Need any help with what you're doing?"

"I would suggest a barrier," Carlisle offers, "but ones like that which protected us from the demon require more energy than most can afford. We are extraordinarily fortunate that I have access to my partner's energies, and could therefore maintain it."

He's silent for a second, rubbing at the back of his neck as heavier thoughts come to his mind.

"I don't need any help at the moment, but I would prefer some company. I have been meaning to check on you, to see, ah. How you fared for the duration of the gods' madness."

"Yes that was.. fortunate. I never got to really thank you, for saving my life. She's been trying to kill me since the first day I got here." He scowls, fairly certain she's been trying to kill everyone since the first day they got here. He's nothing special, just another life to be ended.

"I spent the next three days barricaded in my house with all my furniture blocking the exits and a gun trained on the door." He's not exactly proud of that, but he survived and he didn't kill anyone and no one killed him, which is all he can ask for really. "How about you? Everything go okay after I ran away?"

Carlisle rubs at the back of his neck, something in Pratt's question striking him with immediate discomfort. "It went.. as well as one could expect. I was not pursued by the demon, but found myself met with internal ones regardless."

All in all, his encounter with Pratt and Caedra might have been the least eventful of them all.

"I can blame such troubles on the false gods," he continues. "As well as the presence of a demon within the city. Why would they bring such a foul being here? And what reason has she for chasing you? Are you secretly an exorcist, and have yet to tell me?"

"I don't think I am. Pretty sure she wants to kill me because I'm there." He pauses, thinking back on their first encounter. "She actually saved my life when I first arrived ... and then about ten minutes later threw a grenade at me. I think she did it so she could be the one to kill me instead."

It hadn't been a grenade, it had been a bolt of dark energy but at the time he hadn't known that magic existed so his brain had scrambled for logical answers. As for Carlisle's question, he's not sure that these false gods actually control who shows up, or they would be hand picking people with the proper emotions to feed them. And unless there's secretly a god of panic he doesn't know about - Pratt isn't being good fodder for them.

"I imagine she's powering Rage all by herself."

"A safe assumption," Carlisle notes. "Demons are vile creatures, devoid of empathy. If she feels anything at all, I do not doubt it is unbridled wrath, bitterness, anger. We are no more than cattle to her, food for whatever master she serves, be it extraplanar or one of the deities here."

He shudders, remembering the possessed Emily, how she taunted both him and Glacius by turning her body against them. Is that how it is for this demon? Is she parading around in someone else's skin?

He's not sure he wants to know, honestly -- the mere thought disgusts him. "She has been here for some time, but can I help it, I will not let harm come to you. Not by way of a demon like her."

"I think she enjoys killing, so there's that emotion at least. But probably what she enjoys is that she was more powerful than someone else and ended them, not the death itself. Though I don't know. Hopefully I don't ever find out." He doesn't want to know. Maybe she ate those she killed or sucked out their entrails or who knows what she did, he had never been there when she'd murdered someone, but that sword sure did make it so their bodies wouldn't be easy to identify.

Eugh. He makes a disgusted face, looking away, "She's awful. You have demons like her where you come from?"

That sounds terrible. He has awful demonic people who are goddamn monsters, but they're ultimately still people. Maybe that's worse, that someone capable of empathy and compassion would still act like that. But at least they're mortal and don't have magic to attack others with.

"Thanks, that's... thank you."

"There is no need for thanks, as it is my duty to my goddess to ward off such aberrations."

Or so he says, despite having little experience in dealing with demons head-on; he's never repelled ones so strong until Hadriel. Still, he knows his deity would smile upon such vigilance against those invading the mortal plane, and so he holds himself to it, despite the unadulterated terror he feels at the very thought of facing the aforementioned demon again. Were it not for certain circumstances -- his bond with his partner providing him with an abundant source of energy, as well as his awareness and fortitude having been unhindered by the false gods at the time -- she surely could have cracked his barrier and torn them both limb from limb.

He forces himself to swallow that thought, his hand shaking as he continues to write down notes about the spindle-legged deer. He can fret in his paranoia later.

"Where I come from, demons are uncommon," he explains, "and those that do cross into our realm need a conduit to do so, as well as a vessel to house them. They are not of our plane of existence, and are constantly drawn back to where they came from as their energies dwindle. A vessel helps them contain those energies, but it can also be their weakness, should one exorcise and seal away their demonic taint."

His knowledge of demons is confined to several prominent horror movies and he's going to guess that's not really applicable to real life. He also has a hunch that Carlisle won't know what a movie is and he doesn't want to derail the conversation by trying to explain.

"By a vessel you mean they possess someone? So that might just be the body of some random person she's using to walk around?" He shudders, that's a little horrifying. Briefly he wonders if someone who's possessed is just trapped helplessly in their body watching everything or if they're unconscious. For the first time he's a little glad he normally blacks out while being forced to commit atrocities.

"How do you exorcise them? Could we do that to her?"

Now that Alphys can go outside, she's absolutely doing it. It's been months since she could travel freely- between the ocean planet making it hard to get home and the ice planet making it impossible to go out for more than quick trips, even a shut-in like herself wants to be out and about in the sun. She's enjoying that a lot more people are out and about too, because as much as she's enjoying the actual temperature, she has no idea how to act in a landscape like this. Spotting Carlisle working on something with some flora means he has an idea, and she can learn something along the way, so she calls out as she approaches with a wave.

"Hey! Uh-- hi!" Her fleeting confidence means she pauses there instead of advancing, because it just occurred to her maybe he doesn't Want to be bothered and she's making it all worse. So instead, she just keeps yelling over the few feet where she stopped instead of approaching. "What are you d-doing?"

Carlisle glances over his shoulder, giving Alphys an uncharacteristic smile. Apparently, her company is enough to mitigate his annoyance with the jungle.

"Ah, Doctor," he greets, turning his attention back to the flowers he has dissected before him, each set on their own sheet of paper as he takes notes on their makeup -- and particularly their methods of reproduction, given he's hoping to grow a few of his own. "I saw some colorful flowers out here from my garden and thought to myself, 'Ah, wouldn't it be nice to have just a few new specimens for my garden?' I have found a few seeds, but I might have to transplant a..."

Realizing belatedly she's not moved any closer, he looks over his shoulder again, motioning for her to join him.

She waits until he actually invites her over to arrive, a few quick little patter steps over to close the distance and come see what he's looking at before she responds. "So you're, uh, trying to move one in with the rest? That way we can take a little bit of this with us, when we... hm."

Alphys pauses a moment, realizing what she was about to say. There... isn't really going to be another move, is there? This is it. She tries to keep a smile on her face as she corrects. "N-Nevermind, uhm-- I'm sure it'll look really pretty! You could probably just take one, uh, right? I don't think these would uhm, belong to anyone..."

"I don't believe so, no," he agrees, adding after another second of thought, "though I have been wrong about such things before. Let us hope I am not this time."

He leans aside so Alphys can get a better look at his notes and drawings; his art is somewhat clinical in nature, a sterilized look at the plants rather than an artistic one, but his renders show some degree of talent. "I'll need more than one, however. I wouldn't want to bring the seeds back, only to find they won't grow. Reproducing the growing conditions for plants used to such an atmosphere is not always easy. Which, ah. I'm sure you know, as a scientist."

Honestly, Alphys enjoys looking at his work- her 'art' amounts to little more than scribbles in margins of scientific papers, bad anime styled things 13 year olds tend to make. Not something she'd call art, for sure. This looks nice. It's certainly not bad. She can recognize when things are done in an elegant way for what they need to be, and this just points to good scientific work to her.

"Well, I'm no botanist uh, f-for sure. I tend to work more in like, metal and code and stuff, but-- I mean, I get that introducing unknown variables is dangerous no matter what, right?" Alphys grins at him, attempting to diffuse any nervousness on either of their sides. It's not... perfect, but god is she trying. "Maybe we can try them in a couple different places? Or uh, if we get to explore more of this planet, we can see if they're growing other p-places, too. Maybe they're sturdy types."

Her earnest nervousness does manage to diffuse his own, his timid smile giving way to something fuller, more genuine; it crosses his face broadly, his grin stretched across him at her suggestion.

"Now there's a suggestion. I haven't unlimited space in my own garden, but I know a few people with their own. Perhaps they can help with this, each caring for a different type of seed. It would help keep the groups isolated, controlled as opposed to the rampant growth beyond the city's borders. Perhaps we can then figure out the exact rate of growth, maybe even alchemical properties. Testing what is and isn't edible would be important to determining if it should be grown in the orchard. Wouldn't want one plant to overtake the others -- or worse, poison them."

He may have only been tangentially aware of the problems the orchard dealt with when it came to all those boats on the islands, but it doesn't take a genius to know that ruining the orchard would be bad.

It always makes her smile to see him grin, and his excitement is infectious. She listens with fervor as he describes, nodding along and clenching her fists in excitement as he goes.

"Yeah! That could really work! Especially in this world, m-more people can keep space without, uh, without much extra work! I know we could keep some in the lab, we've got lots of space now and I could totally build them a safe place to hang out." She'd offer to put some in her house, but even Alphys knows that above ground plants don't do well without sunlight. At least this is still something she can help with. "And if anybody needs uhm, boxes or something, I'm sure we can help with that too."

Poison isn't too fond of the heat either, but since she grew up in the swamps, where humidity was simply a way of life and caused the kinds of diseases that would take a person away within weeks, she has already adapted quickly to their new surroundings. The day finds her walking about with her hair tied back, her trousers ripped to just below the knees and her arms bare.

She has already been to Carlisle's garden and not found him there, but truthfully she isn't looking for him at all when she comes across him half-crouched and trying to corral an interesting-looking beetle into a jar.

For a few moments, she says nothing. She stands there, arms loosely folded, and watches him.

"I don't think it likes that," she points out, plucking a wide, palm-sized leaf as she closes the distance between them and drops delicately to her knees beside him. "Here, let me try?"

With most other people, Carlisle would take umbrage with the implied criticism, the offer to help because he clearly cannot accomplish such a trivial task on his own; however, given his general fondness of Poison (a fondness to which he may never admit aloud, but one he realizes has budded within his chest nonetheless), he steps aside and lets her make an attempt.

"Know you much about insects, Miss Poison?" he whispers, trying not to alert the beetle as Poison nears it.

Her familiarity with Carlisle does embolden her, but in truth, she would have said what she did no matter what her reaction might have been. She is not someone who often chooses to be delicate in her words in order to spare the pride of others. There is a slight amount of surprise when he so easily steps aside, but she decides it's best not to mention that.

"I grew up in a marsh, so... there were a lot of them," she tells him, taking the jar and placing it close to the beetle's front end. She nudges the leaf slowly underneath its legs, and gently herds it inside the jar that way.

"There weren't many that were good to eat, but some of them glowed, and some of them were good for medicines."

Carlisle's nose wrinkles at the idea of eating the beetle -- or any insect, for that matter. "Ah. Useful as, um. Such applications may be, I was hoping this one might help me tame my garden. Rabbit can only eat so much of the coilers before he decides to nap."

And Rabbit naps a lot. He watches as the beetle marches into the jar.

"Were any of the beetles in your marsh like that? Feasting upon the plants to help curb the growth so it did not become unmanageable?"

"No, not really," Carefully, with the flat of the leaf, she manages to guide the beetle into the bottle. Poison stands up and holds it out, her eyebrows slightly raised as if to say 'see?'.

"We'd cut back the reeds if they started getting in the way, but we didn't manage the land that much. It was hard to farm, because everything was always so wet." And she almost misses it. Almost, but not, because she was never truly happy there.

"I used to go out foraging for mushrooms. Snapdragon would always ask for the big ones, but I liked the small ones, so I'd get those."

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