Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Excuse me -- but -- may I ask what you're doing on my land?" Distant little warble - asked by a dirt-smudged man. Dark earth that covered patches of his knees and elbows - smeared the bridge of his nose and gloves like thick woodchips and dead bits of tree. Waif beanstalk of a man that stared at her from twenty paces on, with eggplant purple that'd faded to lilac-pinks. He'd dyed it lighter purposefully, ever since he'd gotten serious about teaching - years enough now that it stuck, eve if the roots sometimes showed past the fade.

He couldn't quite tell -- friend -- enemy -- chastised himself for thinking that way because he was Reed here, armed with nothing more than gardening tools. Spades and trowels of his hobby trade. Meant for clearing -- at leas the worst of the debris where it'd run overgrown and thorny in parts. He'd already started picking out the nasty weeds from the edible ones -- would churn them into a compost pile so he could get started on task one of one-hundred for all the things he wanted to turn the plot of land into.

"I won't complain of you trespassing. I'm just curious, that's all."

Whatever she could've been rooting for. It wasn't her fault, truly. He hadn't properly fenced it out, wasn't sure that he would. If only because he didn't want to pen in any wildlife who trailed through it regularly; no more than he did Iolanthe. Maybe decorative markers and a sign or two would've done it? Something to consider upon seeing -- purples. Not just hair but skin and - oh.

Reed stilled, feeling deerlike at the tingling of memory that prickled up along the back of his neck.

Except he was human - it was fine - he didn't have to be an overbearing General in every facet of his life - there was no way to know if she was one of them or the other or; ******** him but after awhile? All strange beings blended into one pallet of 'oddness' and 'other' and he simply became accepting of it.

So long as it wasn't trying to stab him. It was fine. Probably. Maybe?

Her shades of purple reminded him of Mizuki, of lilacs in bloom - out of season for the weather, maybe like lavender and nerium-oleander freshly in bloom? Decorative, deadly, fragrant types of pastels that had oh so many uses outside of simply being pretty.

Reed blinked - once, twice, again. He was initially confused by her expression before he remembered that 'aliens' were supposed to be a strange thing in Destiny City; except stranger things lived beneath it and often came in far more human hues than bright pastels. Hell, he'd met more threatening monsters shaped like bunnies and ooze.

"Oh, put your arms down. I'm not the police - this isn't an arrest." flippant little wave and a roll of eyes, skyward into the branches and boughs above. "You couldn't have known. There's no signage yet, no delineation markers. I'm just -- curious." so long as she wasn't being destructive? What was the harm in it? Foraging amidst a forest. It might've done him some good, actually. To know that wandering hands existed which could help him clear unwanted foliage from his vision to be.

"Can I ask what you're foraging for, precisely, or would that be too much?" and Reed narrowed his gaze briefly as he stepped forewords, tight little moment of thought that burst on nothing.

Did she look familiar?

No...maybe? ******** him, but they all looked alike and he'd not run into a single one since the hilltop. Maybe he'd ask this one questions once he found out what she was looking for. He'd ventured so little outside his niche, how much smaller that'd grown since making *mistakes* of the moral kind.

Ahwell....

He'd always liked plants better than people anyways.

"Hm, simply anything interesting? That could be just about anything -- it is the woods - bears do s**t and 'interesting' doth grow out here. Now if we're breaking it down between, say - poisonous or edible? Pretty enough for a table or strange enough to be pressed into a book?" clicked his tongue and knew that it was all thaw, winter molding over into spring, yet the cold still clung, froze over and killed fresh buds and new sprouting things that weren't well hidden enough in tree hollows or log rot.

There were many things the forest was good for, naturally occurring growths free of human tampering. He wondered if she'd seen the gardens of the central most parks, knew his little peace lily plantation hadn't likely sprung up yet or he would've been tempted to show her -- whatever likely hood his wish tree shenanigans bore any fruit was a thought.

"I used to enjoy that, actually, preservation of flowers by pressing them. I've found that encasing them in silica - while more taxing - is also a wonderful way of preserving a plants beauty," humm and motion for her to come and follow on. He liked her more by the second -- loved -- and someone to speak with was so enjoyable. "but you're looking for things that are interesting and also alive? So -- whitecaps, turkeytails; mind you nothing that grows yellow is any fun. The fungi grow on the trees or round their roots, there's a few felled stumps full of them. You'll find all variety of wildflower and edible weeds. We get lambs quarters, winter cress and wild amaranth..." deeper in there were areas dug up, out, as if plots were being marked for usage before being wholly cleaned - roots cut whole and small quadrants laid with bright orange strings and small posts.

Reed had a vision, a bench under a tree - a headstone - a hole six feet deep.

"White clover...oh..we've that in abundance. Ah, the forest does at least? It's early enough in spring that a few of them are flowering when the sun hits right." and he was yammering, oh, he knew he was just - going on - but hell if it wasn't the happiest subject he'd talked about in months - years. It wasn't death or planning or praying the survival of an enemy.

Just plants - not people - not even a person to deal with.

Perfect.

So perfect that he nearly offered up his tools for her to dig up what she wished. Well, actually, it could've been quite the boon to do it. There were things he would be clearing. Detritus that would need to be shluffed out of the way to get land flat and swatches of concrete poured at later dates.

If she found something of use and meaning then it was good, wasn't it? It was right and it meant he'd done something kind for once?

"Can I ask why you're looking?"

Reed was wistful - lost in nostalgic bliss as he remembered his first fungi farm, and growing bean sprouts for sandwiches from his windowsill. Mint leaf and basil that flourished with just a little bit of care.

And ivy - how it made dull adjoining walls gorgeous when threaded up a terrace and latticeworked wood.

It seemed as if her thirst for firsthand knowledge was boundless, so much untapped potential. He missed that. Back when everything was fresh and new - the trials and errors of late spring thaws that killed his plans — and ascribing meaning to the mundane. The mockery of humans thinking they knew nature better than it knew itself. Like they could mastermind it’s machinations beyond creating foods they likened better - and breeding seedless melons and bananas.

“So everything is interesting to you? Well then my friend, when you procure your first death-caps and bloodshrooms? I’d wish to know.” wry tease, and there was the beginnings of a trench dug alongside the flattened space scrapped free of foliage, a pile of haphazard leaves tossed to the side. Reed wrenched his spade from it - aerated on the one side for cutting stubborn roots free.

“Oh yes, the turkeytails. They’re on the more hidden sides of the trees, if you’re looking,” a waved hand towards trees that lingered deeper in, where it was more oft wet than dry nowadays. ”and while yellow is fascinating for color? Just - a giant bloom of happiness? It’s often lacking for edibility — mushrooms are strange that way. The ones you’d think are deadly are most often not - their bitter or gelatinous or completely tasteless. Flowers on the other hand? A potent and pretty lie. Humans plant death in their homes - kiss beneath it on holidays…” the chuckle for that died in a sigh, “but I’m sure you know that, don’t you?”

He wondered how many holidays she’d had here yet? O if those wide glittering eyes seemed distantly familiar — but it was like hunting a bit of gold at the bottom of a silty lakebed. An odd dejavu, and Reed let it slide again in exchange for sharing his time.

The spade became a thing wiped across a pant leg, smear of mud, before it got tucked into a loop near enough his belt, and his gloves got shuffled into a pocket - and — Ah - his phone — “Regardless — here - I want to give you my information. To help with your sampling? You deserve to have your interests cultivated properly, hah, and then? We can go root around in the dirt for something fun.”

Because he needed a break from — everything — because he wanted her to succeed? To have columns of pressed and dried seed pods waiting for a bit of rain - hell - seed bombs if she’d have them. To have pretty knickknacks and strange plant life embalmed for her own joy.

She seemed like such a happy thing….

"Attagirl - please do enjoy a good laugh the next time you see someone canoodling under mistletoe. The things we keep in our homes for the sake of whimsy." he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes for it. Though there were large parts of Reed that assumed it also had something to do with control, power, some id born hubris and ego driven pride that came with being the 'species'. Leave it to Man to drag in all manner of flora and fauna which could bring about a messy end, were they a hair less intelligent as a species.

"Death caps are fairly easy to cultivate, invasive...Actually? They enjoy the winter rains and early spring weather. With luck we should find them." Plucking a few from the environment wouldn't do it any harm, and if she wished to grow them? Well, they were called Death Caps after-all, he was sure he didn't need to expound on their inedibility. Speaking into being - it gave him ideas. An image that slowly grew into something more, plotting that took place over sketchbooks in wane hours after his house was quiet; everyone down and safe where he could keep track of them. Wrought-iron set into concrete. Blacks and greens. He could encourage ground covering plants -- little fairy rings made of death-caps. A headstone engraved with...

And he was offering up his information for her to put into her cute little phone. Antiquated, but maybe also those types of phones were coming back? He'd never been one to understand basic trends. "It's Reed, and you can call me anytime -- though texting is probably best? I work until about three, with the exception of weekends. I try to keep those free, when I can."

She was so enthusiastic over the littlest of things -- all the ways he wished - well - maybe he could be an advocate for her the way his parents weren't for him? He couldn't begin to guess how old she was, he only knew that a shared passion was worth giving his time to. Honestly, if he had his way? More people would spend time outside, playing in the dirt, unearthing worms..

“Ria then....” a slow sort of blink, a bit of a double take because he’d so enjoyed her time, but no. She was right and it was fine, he’d see her again — hell - maybe he’d even trouble himself with finding out where? If she’d come in with the Commodore and all his commotion. What was he? Lyndor like the chocolate? Ah well, it hardly mattered. Reed considered the Vanguardians as neutrally uninvolved in their affairs as he did the dms at this point.

So long as she wasn’t an active enemy? Did he care? Espescially when she held such voracious appetite and upbeat attitude for — well — anything that involved even the barest sort of interest in herbology or horticulture.

“Oh, that’s fine - the forest isn’t going anywhere after all.”

And she’d always be welcomed, as far as he was concerned. People kept places healthy, and her foraging would likely make the place feel more like a well tended piece of the world than a half abandoned plot turned tomb — and maybe she’d bring friends — and maybe Ochre wouldn’t ever be lonely. Peacefully I disturbed, surrounded by lovers of nature, birdsong, bright flowers and what works who churned the earth beneath those…

It was almost sweet to imagine a cycle that could offer purpose to all the things that came after a life was lived.

A comfort.

“Good luck with, ah, whatever you need to get to? Hopefully it’s nothing too stressful.” an awkward little halfshrug and humm that accompanied a wave while he pocketed his phone. Precious bits of data saved away, hopefully for future fun.