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The Robust
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Twenty-Eight
October 30th
Bevaridge Town
Biomesexual
Pokemon Educator/Vlogger/Biome Enthusiast
Avatar/Gym Leader/Elite Ranger
See ya later, Feraligatr!
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Zac Ramsay
When you have to say you're vine, but you're not vine [S]
POSTED ON Aug 8, 2021 11:30:32 GMT
 He felt the plate wriggle and bend under his broad fingers. An unbroken piece of smooth, cool metal that tickled like it was covered in growing grass. Zac held it so hard he felt it would snap like a biscuit. "You'll be fine. I can heal ya, no problem. Okay? Just don't...do anything." There was no greenery to draw on. Not here. Zac had deliberately set up in a warehouse to avoid plants consuming it. To draw any healing punch he would have to go outside. But...would it be the same as with Ki? Enough to make her feel better for an day? An hour? Maybe not even that. Yet in his hands Zac had the parts to something more. He had a magical healing vine in his pocket, and in his hands...a mystery. We never did figure out what these bloody plates do. "It'll be safe with me," Zac said, nodding to Ki. He'd already put in some safety measures to limit the reach of the stick-fingered woman. "Let me get some supplies," he said, and he ran out through the back door and into the garden. Minutes later everything was set up. KFC had been pushed aside, and more cola crates had been put together to prop the flower pot up off the floor. Garden soil and Mt Chimney ash scattered the floor, and a conical trellis stuck from the pot like a princess's tower. Stuck into the dirt was a singular, wilted vine. "Looks a bit sad now, but there's nothing that a little green thumb can't fix!" he said, chipper as ever. Zac sat, one hand on the green plate and one hand pressed into the soil in the pot. His GRASSY TERRAIN should have been growing the vine on its own, but there was no hint of movement from the mystical sprig. That's not a good sign. It's like that bloody carrot, Zac thought. "Hold on guys let's give this a shot." Life pulsed from Zac. In a room of death, rust, and sterile steel, he raged with green breath and growth. Deep below, roots swelled, cracking the ground and beating against the foundations of the factory. Outside, trees creaked and arched towards the sky. Zac felt the vine twinge. Sweat dripped down his face, falling onto his bright shirt. "Come on you bugger. Give me something!" Under his left hand, the plate hummed, and then a deep, sonorous note pulsed through Zac's marrow. It was like one of Bulu's bells had struck his arm like a tuning fork. He tasted emerald, and heard the roar of a thousand years of old growth. The vine detonated. Each strand of the twisted foliage shot out, up, and around like whips, stretching from clipping to ancient lattice as the vine's growth was supercharged. A lifetime of growth happened in an instant. The pot burst, scattering dirt, and the roots quested across the floor to nestle into the bags of mulch, Zac's couch, and the last bucket of KFC. Under Zac's left hand, the plate fell silent. |
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