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The green ball of fire that leapt from his dagger like something alive and vengeful; Taxanes Fire hitting with force enough to crack through several already brittle tree limbs, and dent desiccated trunks that were so full of rot the only answer to them was to tear them down and pray that natures fungus took over in place of -- whatever unearthly blight this new disease was --

Prehnite couldn't ******** parse it! No amount of study, or of science done, or of -- minutes, hours, months spent hunting down answers (with the exception of one brief stint at being kidnapped by the strange chaos endemic to DC's boundaries) had shed any light on this for him. It seemed to patch the Negaverse, to plague his favorite parks, to eat away at greenhouses, potted vegetation, his own godamned garden!

Everything that was living, and how long until that extended beyond plant and reached man like some prolific yet unheard of candida auris? How long until it was no longer mere skittering bugs that he found the hollowed bodies of, and became something that sent people into hospitals en masse...

The circling thoughts that wound round his growing ire for all of this mess were scattered by a flicker of movement on his periphery. Not animal. No, but what then? The possibility that they were lingering remnants of what'd snatched him and portions of his team wholesale and spat them out half alive and slicked black. Well? All the more reason to want them beyond ash and dust -- to watch the fire he cast burn with magical brute force, sickening greens that sizzled a trail across decay before fizzling out for lack of oxygen and proper fodder.

"Come on out you bastards..." seethed, and the General wondered if he wasn't to their liking? If there was anyone with proper answers...

He stood at the edges of the spreading ichor, unguarded, aura out, waiting.

Lost in the miasma of a rearing mind Prehnite forgot to keep alert; the beings had no aura though, gave no sound, the squelch beneath his boots with each step he ascribed to the decay of the environment as a whole, never would he have thought the beings to claw so close from their hidden positions in the desolate woodlands.

"How cute," trite when he felt the pull, the tug, less sure of mind than the steel he slipped into his tone -- as if he briefly believed such a hollow looking horror could be cowed by a flash of teeth and prudish sneer, "did you all fancy a hug, a friend?"

Prehnite heaped mockery even as he felt his heels sink into the squelch, watching in dawning awe the black that unfurled and climbed nastily high up boots that made waders and thigh-highs alike feel some form of envy -- never had he been more glad to be so fully wrapped a being.

"A knife between the eyes."

Flight was far from his mind, foolish as that was, vengeance was what he wanted right then. For the week stolen, stuck in the void, for whatever line of evil linked these things to that -- and more importantly? For the death of every bit of soil and green growth he valued more than most human life. For that -- Prehnite shouted and lashed out at the tumorous mass of winding ink, just to see if slashing damage would take where poisonous fires had fizzled previously.

The actual --- *<********>* -- Prehnite cursed as he found himself ensnared and shoved onto his knees with a snarl, just as he was spared by the most beautiful sort of attack from--

An Eternal--

Or, no, even worse--

A Transcended Eternal.

What perfect timing -- for her -- the sight of the glow struck him to sigh what little air he'd gasped in. A quiet lament for being so caught off by his rage for the nasty little goo beasts that clung his boots and tried to drag him *down*, ever deeper into their suffocating midst's, that he'd failed to notice Her; though the rush of air between clenched teeth was more of a nasally hiss than anything full of loathing proper, because what he'd expected? Upon sight and feel of that densely floral aura, invisible presence, it's pressure -- was not what he got.

There he was, ripe for the picking, and instead she was helping him?!

Or maybe?

Maybe she was actually helping herself..

All of Prehnites prodding, his probing, his hunt through pages and ranked members and databases had brought up naught ******** all -- save that the instances plaguing him were plaguing the entire community. That they were recurrent, that there seemed no killing of anything with any sort of permanency. That his own personal green spaces were rotted out dead because of this -- oblek monstrosity -- meant little when he looked at it on a grander scale.

"If you could do that just -- one more time -- without murdering me..." how precise exactly were those needles? Not that he cared if he took a hit just then, struggling one blade up to block with bladed edge the downswing of goo-1's advantageous partner; he didn't know if they screamed properly, only that they seemed to splat at the touch of steel -- only to slip by and reform elsewhere.

Prehnite knew never to hold out hope that anything would be as easy as he would’ve liked it to be; how he would’ve happily rolled his eyes straight out their sockets over the Eternals snippy bit of galling words — the nerve of her — feeling bold enough to be *cheeky* with how she administered her ‘good news’, and who exactly was it good for? Him? The monsters? Her? Probably her.

Ah well, it was supposed to be a joy to survive and suffer!! He should’ve been grateful, thankful, prostrated himself at her lovely flowery feet. What a shame that particular type of motif was on an order based Eternal because he did like the look of it all— and he’d maybe ask her what species of flora she wore after, if he survived!!

If the pair of them survived…

The odds seemed likely, in their favors, as he carved through the next bit of go that tried to climb and cloy. Felt the daggers petals hit cape, cloth, sliced through to embed into his skin in ways that had him wincing— and shrugging for it when he saw how much more damage the magic did to the blighted creatures around them. Hints of recoil in their bubbling, oozy edges. Maybe they could feel pain? True pain.

Maybe they could die? If he bled a little to achieve that, then it’d be worth it—

“Oh yes, such good news, the best!! I’m positively *thrilled* to hear it—-” Prehnite sneered, tickled positively pink to the very tips of his hair, all loaded sarcasm sunk into his words. He just had to keep reminding himself it was worth it all to try in this moment and be an aid to her. Whatever got rid of the monsters—- Not youma. Not alien. Not easily dispatched. He had no room to b***h about it so long as something got done.

And his blades glows that sickly green once more, filled with taxanes fire, baseball sized blast of pitchers blaze that burst free the edges of his blade and slammed into the blights that continued to try and suck him down.

Now they did make noise proper—and Prehnite grinned as he gained some footing to shift more free of them.

“Though I’d be far more thrilled if they’d all just *die*. Ruinous, moldy bastards. Their far worse an infestation than your lot.” a compliment if ever he’d given out to anyone. Especially a transcended eternal…

What was this, a call to arms? An invitation for aid against a nasty black mess that came from -- who knew, space, time, some other-worldly off planet conundrum.

"Honestly--Orchids, is it? Whatever gets these things the ******** off my lawn," the words hissed, and Prehnite was being quite literal about it all. So much severity in his tone even as he sloughed free of what the muck had killed, trailing mess along the edges of his tattered cape -- ruining it further by wiping the spanning drip of ooze off on its edges; oh so carefully, because his blades were indeed sharp.

"The amount of greenery this -- Blight -- as we're calling it now, has utterly destroyed? I'll never get that oak tree back to good health. Oh, sure, the gardens will survive, after their ritually burned so the fresh sod can return." Prehnite continued to grumble, to himself, to her, and of course any of his desires could only come to fruition if the Blight was culled entirely!! Try as he might? He as of yet had not a single bit of clue how to do that.

"This is me accepting your help, offering it up -- whathaveyou. Why are you looking at me like that? I'm not going to stab you--" a raised brow and half attention turned more her way because he realized she was actually loking at him, or maybe his knives? He wasn't going to stab her though. Not tonight. She was busy. He was busy, and he did not like in the slightest being covered in foreign goos of any shape, form, kind! Blight ooze was nothing like blood and that was discomforting in its own right.

"Tonight -- yet -- whichever you prefer." he waived the words off as if they were meaningless, nothing more than idle banter, eying the eternal with proper interest now. Her flowers were indeed orchids now that he was paying attention! A lovely shade too. "Do you think this is all bubbling up from Earth proper? It's likely, there have even been sightings in the, oh, lets call it the underdark, shall we? As above, so below, I can't imagine it's in space as well."

It was Ida then, and he'd remember the name as he'd remember the face. Though he was far more likely to remember the soft looking orchids that adorned her every bit of piping and lining in wreathed patches. Ida was a good enough name, simplistic, though a part of him liked the nickname far better to some degree. His love of plants and all things green kept him listening, more raptly after he'd stepped further free of the muck and dead-mulch that surrounded him. Made something of a semi-circle advance towards her, not close enough to be threatening unless he felt like throwing something sharp--

Which he didn't, ranged attacks seemed her specialty and he wasn't about to find out exactly how much power she continued to pack away behind gentle eyes and a bow.

"What absolute and utter nastiness, you're telling me it's everywhere? Well...I'm sorry...but -- ********>." emphatic, and full of emotion, he meant the word. Not at her, simply in general, hoped the statement was enough to show his dismay because it really, truly was utterly disheartening to hear the ichor of destruction spread even to the stars. If something like this was chewing up what he assumed were dead worlds? What did it mean for Earth as a whole?!

For his garden!!?

"I can tell you where it isn't rooted far more quickly than I can tell you where it is. The creatures don't seem to care 'where' they wind up. So long as there's something to destroy. Even the places that seem barren..." and he was thinking of the surroundings of the citadel, even places where nothing grew, if anything growing was brought below? It seemed the Blight had gotten there too. If rumors from other agents and his own attempts were anything to show for it. "It's in plots of abandoned land, the weeds of gas station parking lots, homes, gardens, parks---You must understand I don't really care about the people as much as I do the greenery itself. The people will breed, but not for long if everything they consume dies out. That is -- the plants -- poor defenseless things..." and he did for a moment look truly sad, perturbed, spiraled right back into some slight annoyance. Mostly because there wasn't any more blight for him to burn!

"If I happen to come across a source? I suppose I can find some way to contact -- well -- everyone." Not her directly, of course, but power signals of mass proportions were like all calls, bells, whistles, sirens worth of auras if enough were gathered in one spot. People usually got curious enough to come and see. "If we can kill it, I'm sure you'll know. Though if you find it first? I honestly haven't the slightest idea how to help if it's not here on Earth. I haven't been to another plane of existence since Scholomance was working through..was it puzzle boxes? Ah, something like that.....though there was that horrible void that started devouring people over the summer. Terrible thing, very decidedly not an asteroid or a planet." He shrugged over the concept of being kidnapped by some faceless unknown, because it was summer, and there was always something over the summer, every single time. Without fail.

Whimsical Blue

Everything she said seemed agreeable, solid, sound. Plans around plans with drop boxes atop gas stations included in those plans. How well prepared, and if Prehnite looked at her differently after she'd spoken. Tilted his head and looked at her with the eyes of someone experienced recognizing someone with experience of her own.

How long had she been at this -- how long had he? And whenever he thought about it for any length of time he cringed for how he was nearly twenty seven --going on eighty -- and still a teacher for the snot nosed and the youthfully 'finding themselves' variety. Ugh......It was migraine inducing in it's own right and so he ceased thinking about any of it at all. Simply nodded along and sheathed his blades properly. No stabbing would happen tonight, he was tired, sapped, very much done with all the Blight made death to a large degree.

His poor, poor plant babies! All shriveled ruin, his oaks ash in a pyre, not even usable as firewood the next season, his saplings chalky spotted wilt sucked of life.

"Earth is also full of life, it makes sense for something that devours so cleanly to be *here*, for all the ways the rest of space shines it's not exactly a font of energy and light; it's just false refraction sent back our way -- an illusion of it -- so our planet in and of itself is ripe for the taking on infectious and sentient diseases, all sorts of molds --- blights---the whole damn nine." and if he wasn't going to fight her? He had things to do, spots of black to plot out exploring and burning out the next day -- maybe with help -- if the things were going to be so tenacious about surviving.

"I'll keep an eye out though, leave you little notes with ivy vines as a signature, probably green or purple ink? I'll let you know if anything i've tried has worked to kill it. Not that magic or acids seem effective, and any of the locals I've reached out to seem stumped, no amount of simple disinfectants or neem oils seem not enough to remove it," he had to smile for how right she was though. Plants were far more tenacious than human beings, they'd survive this, outlast it, grow back. Once the blight was properly disposed of and the ruin eradicated from the land. He was sure it wouldn't be too hard to save the rest.

"It's Prehnite, by the way, in case I didn't mention it before, and I'm eager to eradicate this monster with you -- Ida..." though if there was a drop box proper? Who was to say he wouldn't leave some seedlings of his own saving in it, little pass arounds of peace lilies from the star festival years before, a few experimental chutes in hybridized varieties. Someone had to do it!!

"But only this--" and for all his agreeability he was still an enemy, even as he acknowledged her with respect, with pleasant and proper distance and something better than a grimace on his face. He didn't want her to forget that their entanglement in aiding one another was circumstantial at best. Maybe he'd put it in a note? No -- no -- he'd put poppy seeds in the note -- poppies did well after droughts and blights and the works...

He'd extend a branch with no olives, for the time being.

"If there's nothing else?"