ataraxionlogs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

CHARACTERS: Severus Snape and OPEN.
LOCATION: The Oxygen Garden
WARNINGS: None as yet.
SUMMARY: Someone is just indulging his botanical interests! Nothing to see here!
NOTES: Action or Prose is fine.

As if slime, disorientation and nausea weren't bad enough, flashbacks and nightmares definitely made it far worse. His subconscious had apparently formed a connection between the horror of his almost-death and these jumps; a development that was definitely going to be nipped in the bud if at all possible, which is why Severus Snape, former Hogwarts Potions master was currently in the Oxygen Garden, looking over the varieties of plants and insects. He could have simply gone to the Medbay and asked for sleeping pills, but Snape was never a person to condescend to use muggle medicine when he could be painstakingly brewing a complicated magical potion, even under these less than optimal conditions.

Prior to this excursion, he had procured or conjured bags, envelopes and boxes of various sizes in which to place his ingredients (provided of course, that he found them), stowing them in the pockets of his jumpsuit (and also places where there weren't pockets), giving him a somewhat lumpy appearance. He missed his concealing voluminous robes, not for the first or last time. This was the first time he'd sought the Oxygen Garden out and he had to admit he was a little bit daunted by the sheer size of the place, wondering if it would prove necessary to make use of Summoning Charms. (Accio wormwood!). An emergency option, perhaps, as he would prefer to continue to conceal his magical abilities (oneupmanship of pushy pirates notwithstanding). For the time being, he was just hunting for what he needed.

He may be in there for a while.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The oxygen garden was, as it had been the last time Remus had visited, almost overwhelmingly enormous, which was both an assuring fact and an intimidating one. Assuring, because his chances of finding things like wolfsbane and knotgrass were seriously increased; intimidating, because he hadn't the faintest idea of where to start-- and, frankly, he didn't want to spend much longer in here than he had to.

Somewhere on this ship, Severus Snape wandered a free man. Remus' mouth tightened in fury as he thought of it. Did their shipmates know what he had done, to whom he served? Or had he lied to them too? Likely, he thought bitterly; everyone else on this ship had been nothing but friendly so far, and people like that wouldn't willingly harbor a murderer. Besides, what would Snape have to gain by revealing his true loyalties? Better to hide, hide and wait and see, just as he always did.

Which left Remus. Ought he reveal things? Snape was a known murderer, after all, and potentially a danger to the Muggles here-- but still, something about the idea made him sick. This was no business of theirs, and it wasn't as if Snape was Bellatrix, gleefully blasting everything in her path. He was far more intelligent and careful than that. He wouldn't randomly kill, not unless it benefited him in some fashion.

No, Lupin thought, this would have to be settled between them. What that meant, precisely, he didn't know, but it didn't matter. He would think about it later. For now, the wolfsbane potion. That was the more pressing concern. Lupin made his way slowly down the path, pausing every so often as he thought he saw this ingredient or that. After a quarter of an hour, he had a few different plants and roots gathered, and was feeling a little better. He had three weeks time; he could find all he needed by them.

The sound of footsteps echoing on the metal pathway made him stop. Warily he reached into his pocket, grabbing his wand-- if it was Snape, he would be ready, and if not, he would simply look as if he was reaching into his pocket. Harmless.

The footsteps were coming closer; any second now, they'd turn the bend and he would see. Lupin realized he was tense, but more than that, that he was eager. He wanted it to be Snape; he wanted a fight, a confrontation-- something, anything.

He got his wish. As soon as the man turned the corner, Lupin's wand was out, his mouth twisted into a grimace. "Evening, Severus," he said, and really, it was remarkable how steady his voice was.

Although engrossed in his collection of flora, Severus was peripherally aware of the presence of others and his progression through the meandering pathways of plant life was not without caution. After the attacks of the last month, he was always on at least a minimal level of alert; with his wand readily available, tucked up the sleeve of his jumpsuit. As long as people kept their distance however, he paid them little mind, confident in his ability to avoid altercation. If worse came to worse, he could simply disapparate after all, which was quicker than trying to get a hex off or put a shield up. Truthfully though, his thoughts weren't exactly dwelling on such things, as it had been a while since there'd been an attack.

He had more pressing things to consider, to wit—if he were a plant of the sophora secundiflora variety, where would he be? He'd found valerian and asphodel roots, along with several other ingredients and sopophorous beans were the only essential element he lacked for a Dreamless Sleep potion. He'd spent the last hour searching without any success and was beginning to grow a bit concerned. Of course it wasn't as though this was a life or death situation, but it would be annoying to have his efforts thwarted by the lack of a bean. He was busily racking his brain for possible substitutes (doubtful) when suddenly Remus Lupin was standing in front of him.

To say that Snape was taken completely aback by the man's presence would be the understatement of at least the last decade. So much so that he failed to draw his wand, his voice barely a whisper when he finally found it.

"Lupin...?" No need for a wand, Remus. A feather could have knocked him over.

And now what? Was he to blast the man? He had every right to, Merlin only knew; this was a known murderer, the man who had killed Dumbledore-- the man who had nearly killed him a few months ago-- and yet Lupin hesitated. Killing Snape wouldn't solve anything, not really-- and what would blasting him do? Remus had no idea if this ship had any kind of justice system, if they even respected crimes from another world.

Despite his thoughts, Lupin's wand didn't waver. At the very least, he wouldn't allow Snape to arm himself (then what are you going to do? You can't just stay like this forever, a voice pointed out, and Lupin ignored it).

"I arrived a few days ago, you see," he said tersely. "I'm surprised you didn't notice, you're usually much more observant. But perhaps you thought yourself safe from past crimes here?"

No, obviously he hadn't noticed, what with being sick and disoriented from the jump; the voices on the comm turning into so much babble most times. A mistake he would not be making again, needless to say, provided he was still alive the next time.

Frozen in place, he quickly gained back a measure of composure, keeping his eyes fastened on the other man's, rather than straying towards his brandished wand. In a way, Severus was glad that he hadn't the presence of mind to draw his own wand: if he had, Lupin probably wouldn't have hesitated to stun him (at the very least) and he's painfully aware right now that his reaction time might be just a little bit under par.

But Lupin wasn't going to attack an (ostensibly) unarmed man—Snape didn't need to use Legilimency to be able to tell that much. His fingers twitched, but he still made no move to defend himself, not wanting to give the other man a reason to act.

He began slowly, trying to choose his words with care, although in truth, he'd never expected to ever have this conversation, so he was a little bit at a loss. Not that that kept his voice completely free of derision.

"No, I've been a bit under the weather, alas." Bloody Potter. Presumably the idiot kept all of Snape's memories to himself. Not that he would have especially wanted posthumous vilification under normal circumstances, but it certainly would have come in handy right now. "You are not in possession of all the facts, it would seem."

"And what facts are those?" he replied coolly, though his mind began to work doubletime. A lie was coming, he sensed-- but what precisely could Snape say? That he had been forced into it? That he had feared punishment and death from Voldemort? Neither served as much excuse; everyone had those same fears. No, Lupin thought, it wouldn't be something as simple as that. Snape was far too intelligent to resort to such flimsy pleadings.

Yes... what facts indeed? That the great wizard Albus Dumbledore, through his own stupidity, was already dying and had devised a plan to make it advantageous—requesting that he, Severus, do him in; sparing Draco's soul and in the process, insinuate himself more firmly into Voldemort's good graces. Never mind about what that might do to his own soul. Never mind about any anguish he might feel a having to murder the only person that had ever given him any benefit of the doubt or had any regard for him. And never mind actually sharing any information with him regarding the Elder wand, of which if he'd been aware, may have enabled him to take steps to protect his own life.

Would Remus also like to hear about Dumbledore's grand plan? Which basically involved having Potter offer himself up like a lamb to be slaughtered so that Voldemort could unwittingly destroy the accidental Horcrux within the boy, thereby making himself vulnerable to being destroyed in return. The possibility that Potter might not actually live through it, was just a factor that had to be taken into account and make provisions against. Regrettable certainly, but a necessary sacrifice, should it come to pass. Dumbledore had to consider the greater good, after all, even if it was at the expense of Lily's son.

And with that thought, Snape's lip curled as he considered the futility of trying to defend himself against the ghost of Dumbledore's saint-like reputation. And came to the realization that he did not have any inclination to do so.

"Eighteen years ago, I took an oath to protect Harry Potter. That is all you need to know." He half-turned, as if to indicate that the conversation was at an end, when a question occurred to him, prompted by his last remark and he glanced back; his desire to know the answer overcoming his reluctance to speak with Lupin any longer. "Did he succeed? In destroying the Dark Lord."

"An oath to whom?" Lupin snapped, ignoring Snape's last question. Stupidly, pettily, it felt good to deny the man something, to hurt him in some small way. "To Dumbledore? Odd, how I'm finding that difficult to believe, considering you slaughtered him!"

The tip of his wand was trembling, he noticed, and blinked, focusing on that for half a second. His wand was trembling because his hand was trembling, he realized, shaking with fury and grief little over a year old. Lupin swallowed and glared at Snape, hatred clear in his expression.

"The two things are not mutually exclusive," Snape countered, the lip-curl threatening to blossom into a full-blown sneer. His eyes flickered to Lupin's wand; his calm steeliness in marked contrast to the other man's agitation as he casually brought his hands around, low and in front, fingertips pressed together.

"Yes, Albus," he confirmed, as if his use of Dumbledore's christian name would lend credence to that claim, somehow. "It was not the first, nor would it be the last request he ever made of me."

Jack Sparrow hadn't been to the Oxygen Gardens as of yet. He'd walked over the ship a few times, trying to orient himself on where everything was, but the ship was so big, he hadn't gotten to everything quite yet. And so here he was again, looking at everything when he stumbles upon the gardens. Staring at all of the plants and greens, he hadn't realized how badly he'd missed the open air, and he was quick to walk in.

After a few seconds of breathing in a clean, but unfamiliar air, he notices that he's not alone in the gardens. And it just so happens to be his good friend Snape!

He makes his way to the other man, looking over his shoulder. "...watcha makin' mate?"

Why.

Why.

Was he somehow fated to be surrounded by imbeciles forever, no matter where he was? Clearly, this was somehow part of his penance. Whether or not it was better or worse than teaching at Hogwarts still remained to be seen, but the more he encountered Sparrow, the more he was inclined toward the latter.

Ignoring him didn't work and rudeness apparently only encouraged him. Bore him to death with politeness? Severus didn't think that his already queasy stomach would be able to handle that.

"I am gathering artemisia absinthium, a plant commonly known as wormwood. It's an excellent remedy for intestinal parasites."

Woooooow, that was the longest tl;dr Jack has ever heard in his life. You started speaking Latin and he stopped paying attention all together. Latin is a dead language, Snape. No one uses it any more. What is even the point of you using it?

Once he hears Snape's voice stop talking, he blinks and refocuses on Snape's face. B o r i n g.

"Sorry, what?"

And blessedly, the answer is provided by the man himself: bore the cretin to death with intelligence.

"Wormwood, Sparrow, wormwood. Along with the roots of the valeriana officinalis and asphodelus ramosus." Snape paused in the midst of pulling up a sprig of Royal Staff to turn his head toward Jack, sweeping a critical (and surprisingly condescension-less) eye over the somewhat seedy-looking pirate.

"Would you care for me to attempt to dissolve any of your scrofulous swellings?" Oh all right, yes—there was an element of disgust after all. "No guarantees, however."

Correction: Bore Jack to death with things he doesn't give a shit about. Intelligence has nothing to do about it. Jack is actually quite smart in his own way.

Usually, Jack likes to fake stupid because it gives him a certain sense of underestimation that he enjoys having. But this time, he doesn't have to pretend he doesn't know what Snape is talking about. The words he is using are way to advanced for a pirate to know. What on Earth did scrofulous even mean? Besides. He didn't have any swellings. He hasn't any reason to have any swellings.

"The only wood I know of, mate, is drift wood. And you make ships outta those."

Which, hey, actually gives him an idea. "Any way I can make a ship outta your..." He wiggles his fingers. "Wormy wood?"

Bollocks. Another plan proven ineffective. And of course Sparrow would be entirely obtuse to any subtly implied insults. So that was an utter waste of breath, as usual. It was almost not even worth the energy to be disgusted at that point. But Snape will try, because he's considerate like that. Not to mention characteristic.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised, Sparrow, that any ship of yours would be built out of flotsam and jetsam. That would be about your level of expertise," he drawled icily, accompanied by a look fairly dripping with unbridled disparagement. In answer to that ludicrous question, Snape pulled a plant from the soil and tossed it in the general direction of Jack's bovine-like expression.

"Be certain to let me know how that works out for you." And then he had the sinking feeling that he would definitely regret making that offer.

Jack stares at the plant, eyebrows furrowed together, lips pressed together. Just... staring. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Ding!

"...This ain't wood, mate."

He makes a face.

"It... is a plant." Beat. "I can not make a ship out of leaves."

"How astute of you to pick up on that, Sparrow. Clearly not everything people say about you is true. I suppose then, you won't be needing that will you." He held out his hand for the plant: waste not, want not after all. "Unless you feel inclined to attempt the manufacture of absinthe."

Snape might encourage this actually. Perhaps Sparrow will poison himself.

Nope, sorry, Jack doesn't even know what absinthe is. So, all you get is another odd and curious look for you troubles.

But what Jack does understand is that Snape gave him something and now he wants it back. And well, that just about goes against everything Jack stands for. "No!" He moves the plant away from Snape's outstretched hand.

What is he going to do with it? He has no idea. But well, Snape wants it back, so Jack wants it more. Simple as that.

Just about two months ago, Severus Snape had been risking his life on a daily basis: a covert cog in the wheel of an escalating, horrific conflict which had begun for him as the fast-track to ambition, but was quickly eclipsed and degenerated by corrupt ideology and abuse of power, only to abruptly reverse and veer into redemption as a result of a tragedy of his own making. A tragedy that would lead him to devote the remainder of his existence to remorse and reparation that he could never, ever achieve; doggedly treading a path that would eventually culminate in his own inevitable destruction; a martyr in the eternal struggle of good against evil.

And now, here he was, playing tug o' war with a ludicrous excuse for a pirate over a plant. A rather common plant at that.

Pressing his lips together and throwing up his hand in what appeared to be a gesture of defeat, Snape relinquished the 'trophy' to Jack and spinning on his heel, swept from the room (as well as one could sweep without the effect of voluminous robes). He could keep his wormy wood, while Severus went to weep for his lost dignity.

Over the past year, Jack had died, been returned to life, fought in a pirate war against the East India Trading Company, backstabbed people several times, got backstabbed several more times, fought against Davy Jones himself and almost became the immortal Captain of the Flying Dutchman, and defeated Lord Cutler Beckett and somehow got through all of that without dying again.

And now, he's in the Oxygen Gardens, wishing he was anyplace but in space, a plant in his hand, and grin on his face.

"Leavin' so soon, mate?"

While Rey was no longer what one would define as homeless, she still frequented the Gardens. Regardless of her efforts to talk to people, the actual mingling part just wasn't her thing. But the plants and foliage was about the closest thing that brought Rey a sense of familiarity, so she stuck to them. Studied them. Maybe tried to remember sometimes, until it hurt her head and burned her eyes.

Then, she slept.

Which did not last long.

When she woke up, she started to hear the presence of someone else in the Gardens. Not sure who they were or feeling inclined to announce herself, Rey stuck to the plants, but idly began to approach the sounds of the other like the creep she is.

There was a fine art in being able to completely ignore other people in a manner that went so far beyond casual disinterest as to invalidate another's existence entirely and Severus Snape was a master of it. But despite all outward appearances, he was in fact, quite aware of not being alone in the garden, at least when the other person began to move closer.

As much as Snape appeared to be giving his full attention to plucking sopophorous bean pods (which seemed rather reluctant to leave their stems), his body tensed, but he did not as yet attempt to determine whom it might be. There was no point in acknowledging someone unnecessarily. He might have to make conversation if that happened.

Of all the things Nepeta likes about the Tranquility (and there were surprisingly quite a few), the Oxygen Garden has to be her favorite aspect. Being outcasted to a dingy meteor located in what can only be described as hellish limbo has given her a whole new appreciation for the small pleasures in life. Discovering it had reminded her of her home, how much she missed the smell fresh smell of foliage and the hum of insects, and now she simply can't stay away.

Traveling with her new cat companion, she stalks about gardens, making up stories in her mind as she goes along.

The pride slinks their way through the jungle, looking for the perfect sunny spot to nap in after their arduous--but successful!--battle to defend their kill against the dreaded Dark Death Ostriches of the Silver Pass. Those nasty birds just do not like cats, yet their deadly talons and flesh-ripping beaks were no match for--

And then she spots Snape. Poor bastard.

--DEATH OSTRICH!

Luckily Nepeta is just aware enough of reality to realize that this is actually just some random, broody-looking human who she hasn't met. Equius would say to minimize unneccessary risk, introduce herself politely, and for the love of musclebeasts DO NOT ENGAGE IN ROLEPLAY WITH THIS STRANGER.

But Equius isn't here.

She positions herself behind a large fern, careful to make no noise and obscure herself in the shadows. After a long moment of staring and planning her next moves, she launches herself into the air, artificial claws extended, and screams something halfway between a girl imitating a lion and a house cat yowling.

"RAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"

This is the worst idea ever.

To Snape, the Oxygen Garden was the type of place that he would categorize as useful, with its staggering variety of plant and insect life; some of which were entirely unfamiliar to him, thus presumably native to planets other than Earth. The potential for new potion discoveries might be making him giddy if such a frivolous feeling wasn't completely contrary to his nature. And, if he hadn't been so focused on finding specific ingredients. Which was proving to be quite difficult with some items, due to the aforementioned abundance of plants. Another time perhaps, he would be quivering with academic anticipation and intrigued, but right at that moment, he was feeling more than a little bit irritated, as he'd been wandering around for two hours now without finding everything he required.

Pretty much the last thing he needed was to be pounced upon by some kind of lunatic cat person.

Snape's first instinct was a hastily shouted Protego! In effect, a Shield Charm; calculated to block an attacker from making contact, thereby buying him a few seconds to brandish his wand threateningly, with the intention of quickly following up with a Stunning Spell. Or worse.

Now, Nepeta had planned to (gently!) pounce-tackled the stranger and then try to engage him in harmless play, but that pretty much failed as she smacks into some bizarre, translucent shield that appears to have sprung up out of nowhere. It takes all of her dexterity just to shakily land on her feet and not hit the ground face-first.

Welp, that's one way to jolt her back into the real world.

After a moment of disorientation, she quickly retracts her fake claws back into her gloves and looks up to see... the dude pointing at her with a stick. Brandishing a stick? Certainly doesn't look big enough to deliver hurtful blows. Could be threatening to poke her in the eye. Whatever, she's just glad this guy isn't carrying a sword or something, even if he still looks rather pissed at her.

"Ah..."

Well this is awkward. Since Plan A (Introduce Self Playfully) has failed, Plan B (Introduce Self Politely) will have to be implemented, but not without some embarrassment. Nepeta does her best not to flush green. She fails.

"Hello! Um, sorry if I scared you! I was just playing, you see; I wasn't going to hurt you, I was being very carefurl not to tackle you hard. In hindsight purrhaps I should've given you a heads-up that I was roleplaying and had no intent to harm you and really I was so caught up I thought 'this guy would make the PURRFECT death ostrich!' It's something I made up just now, and... oh gosh, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Her body posture droops, trying to look as apologetic and non-threatening as possible. She looks more guilty for her actions than frightened at having a wand pointed in her face. Actually, she seems completely unphased. After all, magic is fakey-fake. Or so says Eridan.

"Maybe we could start over with introductions?"

There were lots of thoughts that could have been running through Snape's mind right then, such as: oh look, it's only a child (presumably) and wasn't he just a touch embarrassed to have reacted as if he'd been attacked by a dozen Dementors. Or he could have been preparing to launch into a pompous, lengthy lecture about how rude is was to disrupt the work of serious people with such silly, mindless games. Or he could have been angry enough to be about to simply bypass and dismiss any regulations or threat of retribution and go straightaway into delivering a very painful demise to the miscreant at his feet.

Instead, the only thing going through Severus Snape's mind was a very ineloquent— What. The. Actual. Fuck. Although it probably wouldn't be long before the latter of the other options came to the forefront.

Pressing his lips tightly together, he relaxed maybe a fraction, lowering his wand enough to be ever-so-slightly less threatening. Not that the person in front of him looked particularly apprehensive. If there was one thing he missed about Hogwarts, it would be the satisfaction of doling out particularly disgusting detention assignments to the more obnoxious or idiotic students. There were enough children aboard this ship that fell into that category; perhaps there was a need to be filled. He might look into it.

"There will be no starting over, save for you leaving this place immediately and not coming anywhere near it, ever again."

Unlike adult trolls, Nepeta is quickly learning that adult humans were not always dangerous. Although this one definitely seems to be on the grumpy side, she could resist the impulse to immediately back away and hope he takes mercy on her. Besides, she likes the Oxygen Garden! The second he tries to forbid her from coming again she frowns. She'll do her best to mediate, but this guy isn't her moirail or her leader, so she has no inclination to immediately obey him.

"I can't purromise that, sir," she says patiently. "I really like it here! It reminds me of my home planet befur it was destroyed, and as a fellow passenger, I have just as much right to be here as you do. But... if you'd like, I can leave you alone from now on."

A guilty look crosses her face. "I was really hoping fur a new start though. Even if we can't be furiends, it's better than holding animosities, right? Er, at least on your end. I certainly have no reason to begrudge you since I know what I did was a pretty silly way to meet someone, human or otherwise. I guess I've grown a little too complacent with the unreality of our situation, you know? Being in another universe and all can really mess with one's sensibilities!

Anyway... I guess I should start. My name's Nepeta Leijon."

Personable but manipulative people in positions of power, he was accustomed to and understood to some extent, having worked for one very notable example of the type for a large part of his life. Self-serving, arrogant, ambitious people—not a mystery, as he was one himself, after all. Overly friendly people—generally easily discouraged with rudeness. Stupid people—easily dismissed without having to put in much of an effort at all. Overly friendly, manipulative, self-serving, stupid people (see Gilderoy Lockhart) —more of a challenge, but certainly not outside the scope of his ability to intimidate without the need for direct threats.

But a sincerely friendly person who didn't seem to be entirely an idiot, who persisted in being friendly even in the face of repeated hostility... was just beyond Severus's comprehension. And if they were a child, that made it even more baffling, as children were generally easily intimidated.

Somehow Snape was getting the impression that Nepeta Leijon was going to turn out to be one of that sort.

"Just stay away from me, then. I have work to do." A grudging acknowledgment that he didn't have the power to bar her. At present.

Edited 2012-03-24 21:29 (UTC)

Hostility is simply a fact of life in the troll world. Two of Nepeta's romantic quadrants are occupied by a sweaty elitist and the personification of dickish fury. Three of her friends have maimed, crippled, or murdered her other friends. Forgiving Eridan and forming a truce with Jack goddamn Noir on the ship has only solidified her resolve. At this point it would take quite a lot to drive her away permanently.

Whoever this guy is (and since he hasn't offered up a name, Nepeta has dubbed him Mr. Ostrich in her mind), he's starting to remind her of Equius. Just a bit. He has an authoritative, serious air about him and he looks like the sort that could easily creep on people from the shadows. Too bad he probably isn't the sort to make horse puns.

Nepeta lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding and smiles amiably.

"Purrhaps it's something I can help with?" Since the human looks like the sort to not accept help easily, she quickly adds, "Just an offer! Some people around here aren't furmiliar with spaceships or the sort of technology this one possesses. If it's something purrtaining to that, I might be able to lend a paw! Claw. Hand. Or all three, heehee!"

Confirmation then, that his character assessment skills hadn't deserted him, although he wasn't exactly pleased to have been proven right in this instance. And perhaps the part where she was not entirely an idiot may have been a bit premature, if immunity to plain talking was any indication.

Snape stared at her for a moment, considering the most advantageous way to appear accommodating whilst hopefully sending her off to some unknown doom from which she may never return. "Have you any knowledge or aptitude regarding botany? If so, you may search for a plant that I've been unable to locate." And if by some remote chance she found it, then all the better.

And here she was hoping Mr. Ostrich would say something like 'How do you work the internet?' or 'I'm looking to stop someone from going on a violent rampage.' Sadly, botany is outside her area of expertise, a fact that makes itself apparent when her smile falters.

"Oh, no, that's not my area of expurrtise. But if you give me a description or picture, I can try! Really, worst that can happen is that I don't find it, in which case you get your wish to be left alone anyway."

She sounds way more amused than disappointed that he's basically sending her on a mission to get rid of her. Seriously, what else is she doing with her time? Her cat seems to have curled up for a nap, and as tempting as it is to join her, Nepeta simply isn't tired. May as well try to make a friend! (Or at least an ally that won't stab her.)

My, an actual display of logic—how refreshing. Thankfully, the crestfallen expression on her face (albeit a fleeting one) did nothing to deter his satisfaction that she would soon be on her merry way, far out of the range of his purview.

"Certainly," he replied, successfully masking the eagerness in his voice with authoritative brusqueness. He reached behind his back and when his hand reappeared, it held a photo which he'd apparently just conjured (although the act resembled sleight of hand more that it did anything magical), which he then passed over to her.

"You will be seeking the sopophorous bean, which is the fruit of the sophora secundiflora plant, commonly known as the Mountain Laurel. Do not return unless you find it."

Right then. That should be the end of her.

"Affurmative, sir! Heehee!" Nepeta gives a big wide grin and a small salute before bounding off.

This would be end of the tale if Snape was lucky. Never again would he be affronted by an odd cat-like alien with candy corn horns. But let's be honest: when has Snape ever been that lucky?

Her quest takes her quite a while, partly because she has only a vague idea of what she's looking for, mostly because she keeps getting sidetracked by her own imagination. Even when she finds some plants that look similar, she still has to take the time to sniff out her cat friend and then Snape.

After about two hours, should Snape still be in the general vicinity of the Oxygen Garden, he can hear a familiar voice yelling:

"Mister Death Ostriiiiicchhhhh! I think I found it!"

Sounds like she's getting closer. Best pray she doesn't try to pounce on him again.

Unfortunately (for him), Snape was still in the general vicinity. He'd found the beans on his own, finally and then proceeded to become more than a little bit sidetracked by the abundance of unusual/unknown plant varieties. A 'child in a sweet-shop' might have been a good metaphor, apart from the fact that it wasn't a phrase that sprang readily to mind when looking at Snape, no matter what it was that might have been occupying his interest.

Which he was now, apparently, going to live to regret.

Mister. Death... Ostrich? What had his life become?

Disapparate, or remain? Not one of the more difficult decisions he's ever had to make. Running away? Yes, he was. Although mind you, it was not cowardice. Simply... preservation of sanity.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(no subject)

wow I'm sorry for the tl;dr

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

wow I'm so late SORRY

no prob!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject