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There's a pickup truck in the parking lot of a local park, loaded with small shrubs and saplings and other plants. Apparently, someone's doing some municipal beatification. Really, this is a nice and kind and expected thing.
...except that it's 11pm and this park has never really gotten much attention for the city. Most of the trees already in the ground here are dying. So why, why is there a lone figure pulling a spade out of the back of the truck and getting to work like this is normal?
Spooky folx wander these nights, seeking whom they might terrorize- both for the sweet, sweet glamour and because giving the Philly PD a lasting understanding that there is truth in the statement "Fuck Around And Find Out." However, it's not police that are discovered this evening, and rather than be caught out, the mask is removed and stowed before approach.
So it is that this lone figure with gardening supplies is approached by one Johnnie Drexel, striding up with a wave and a smile. "Evening! Little late for green thumbs, innit?"
That figure is an elemental in their own right, a fella with terra-cotta skin that leaks water from both eyes and a crack on their neck, under one side of their jaw. Their mantle is very subtle--a tang of chlorine in the air, a shimmer of asynchronous dew on the plants. They're wearing boot-cut jeans and a tank top, a black cowboy hat on their head.
"Is it? My, I simply must not have noticed the time or something, maybe. I might be able to get done quicker here if I have some help." Lif offers a charming, perhaps even cheeky smile, while the streams of water from their eyes dribble down old-carved rivulets down their cheeks.
"Oho? What kind of help might you need, then? My own hobby this evening isn't panning out, so I don't mend lending a hand or fourteen to a worthy cause." Johnnie offers, leaning to peer in the truck. "I hope it's not carrying things round, I'm about as useful as a garter snake when it comes to playing pack mule."
Her eyes cut back to Lif, sparkling with humor.
"If I dig the holes, can you be careful with putting things in them? Cover them up nicely, give them a kiss for luck as they start growing?" She looks Johnnie over. "You, uh. Look a bit different than the last time we talked. New haircut? New clothes? New gender? Whatever it is, looks good on you."
"Aw, you noticed~" Johnnie croons delightedly, flashing a brilliant grin. "A and C, in fact. Hair's grown out, and hotswapped around a few gendery things. I've been having rather a lot of fun as a lass, after so long as a fella." She stretches, then laughs abruptly. "Though the balance is taking some time to get used to," she admits, settling back down after. "And if it's a gentle, precise touch you're after, well." Her eyebrows pop cheekily. "I could oblige. And I'll even pass on all the obvious puns along the way!" What a deal.
"You say that as if I wouldn't cherish the puns personally." They shake their head, taking their shovel and beginning to die. "It's nice, that you've got such gender euphoria going on. I don't even know what to make of my identity at this point, given everything. I'm looking to put four or five of the plants with the feathery leaves and bright yellow cluster flowers around the base of this tree, another few around that other tree on my right, by the way."
"Well, thank you~ I'm rather enjoying it myself, all this euphoria. I like being the version of me I designed instead of the one I snagged between genetic lottery and sheer otherworldly imposition." Others might take that to mean divine design, but for them- Fae manipulation, clearly. "And I'm sorry if it's a sticking point for you. I'm afraid I had rather an easy time of it. My struggle was literally "oh I can just bin the label? Well, then" and then I did, and then I got some help playing Mx Potatohead and now I'm as lovely as I should have been when I was still deifically delusional." She starts by fetching the little yellow flowers as described, five at once because she has entirely too many sets of hands thanks to those tricky little shadows, and starts following behind, planting at her leisure. "If it helps, the Gorgeous Androgyne look does suit you to a tee. Are there things you'd change, or just getting a feel for everything?"
"I'm a puddle, is usually how I put it. I don't know if gender means anything to me. But it means a damned lot to everyone else out there. English breaks without pronouns, right? So I just use she and they interchangeably. I went without having a gender over there, because I was too busy being not a person, and I don't really know how to pick it back up, yeah?"
After finishing the holes around the first tree, they gesture at the flowers with their spade. "These are yarrow plants. The Polish name for them is basically 'soldier's plant'. The leaves can be used in an anticoagulant poultice--or to make a sort of herbal tisane that tastes kind of minty."
"Bleh. I don't much care for mint, but the medical use is good to know. I'm a bit trash when it comes to medicine, I'm afraid- beyond applying bandages without killing circulation, there's only so much I'm familiar with. Good at following directions, though," Johnnie explains as she plants the yarrow, delivering little shadowkisses to each one from unoccupied silhouettes. "And that's pretty much where I am- once you've realized you can redefine yourself as a God instead of a mortal, redefining gender is so much less a challenge. And I dunno that English breaks without pronouns, that sounds like something that dorks who don't want to bother having to ask for pronouns instead of just assuming them based on presence or absence of tits and/or facial hair or any number of physical bits that have no bearing on gender at all. It's not like we used gendered words beyond pronouns, after all, so language works fine with "they" and really, I don't know why "they" isn't the default until otherwise informed."
Johnnie rants idly while she plants. There's advantages to following behind an Elemental in tight jeans using a shovel, and she indulges without shame every time Lif bends over to dig again.
"Honestly? Capitalism, the patriarchy, western systems of oppression. There's still very much a belief that the trajectory of a child's life, starting with their interests, can be determined in the womb from genitalia. And there are businesses that make good money from this belief. A bakery that makes bank on gender reveal cakes isn't about to start preaching to parents about the idea of how assigned gender at birth is a crapshoot." There's a good natured eyeroll, and then a glance back as she catches one of those moments of indulgence. But she doesn't say anything about it.
"That's hella dumb though. Money's the worst reason to not treat people well," mutters Vorpal. "I should know. I had plenty growing up." If she's embarrassed to get caught, she doesn't show it for a second.
"Yeah, well. To some people, money's a big game. Make the numbers go up, make other people's numbers go down, and you win. Doesn't matter who gets hurt, doesn't matter what you have to do to get there." There's a load of bitterness in those words, and their mantle flares, the chlorine scent growing stronger on the air. "Let the next generation bear the consequences. Let the poor man suffer, he should have been playing the game harder."
"I mean, if they wanna play the "might is right" game, I'm down," chirps Vorpal cheerfully. "Sure would be a shame if their businesses started to get wiped out by mysterious storms, don't you think? Playing the bully game is a losing proposition, and I can't help but wonder if the world wouldn't be better off if the finance bullies of the world got put in their place more often."
"And that's how I ended up in Summer. One too many times seeing someone not give a fuck about who was getting hurt to earn him money." She leans on the space. "You hear about the Philadelphia Energy Solutions plant?"
"I don't think I did. Wanna tell me about it?" Vorpal asks, leaning back onto empty air, supported by her shadows.
"Oil refinery. There's a chemical those places produce called benzene. It's toxic--causes lung problems and cancer. The EPA tests for levels in the air at every refinery on the regular basis. 'Action level' by the EPA's standards is 9 parts per million. The Philadelphia Energy Solutions refinery tested at over five times that, shortly before the whole plant exploded, releasing a fuckton more into the air. Now...take a guess. What do you expect the population near the plant, the people who are being effected by that polluted air are like? Rich people who can move away from the problem? Who can see a doctor the moment they have a suspicious cough?"
She's very animated as she speaks about this, water burbling more quickly from the crack in her throat.
"I'm just gonna take a random shot in the dark and guess that they didn't build this refinery in the middle of a white-collar gated community," replies Vorpal flatly on return with a few more yarrows for planting. "Gonna guess we're talking can't move, can't see a doctor, and can't pay for lawyers to actually make PES feel it."
"Exactly so. When that happened...I found my wrath. That's why I left Spring, nothing Fae about it at all. I got angry over things people do to one another. Though I'm still figuring out my place in the court. I am nowhere near as skilled as the Summers you love." They dig a couple more holes, smaller ones. "Grab the plants with the heart-shaped leaves and the little maroon flowers. Flowers look sort of like triangles."
"I mean..." Johnnie points out, fetching the littler plants as directed, inspecting the flowers on the way back, "You don't have to be. There's only so many times you really need someone like us around. Most of the time, a more balanced individual who's useful for lots of things besides just fending off the occasional briarwolf is much more useful to the Freehold. Don't get me wrong, we're all of us useful, but there's only so many people you need to fill out the Fae-side version of the Suicide Squad." She crouches and plants the new little guys carefully, patting each delictely before standing.
"Those are wild ginger. In the spring time, the flowers are home to insects that need shelter from cold snaps. Ants tend to take the fruiting portion and the seeds germinate in anthills, instead of getting eaten by other animals."
They lean down once more, fluffing the leaves of the first one Johnnie plants. "I'm a scientist at heart, and it's hard to figure out how to apply that effectively sometimes, for us. Big line between what I'm doing here and being able to apply it in the Hedge, yeah?"
"I getcha. Still, you don't HAVE to make war on the Hedge. Your science, your understanding, can be used to bring war against the people making our lives here awful or difficult, too, the ones hurting our friends, family, support networks. And if the issue in the Hedge right now wasn't some sort of plantified spiritual take over, I bet your talents would have been extremely on point to solve everything. Even then, you have brought forth tons of the most pertinent info I've seen, so. I feel like you're maybe softselling your value to yourself, Lif."
Johnnie whistles quietly at the details. "I had no idea plants even did stuff like that, acting like bug condos."
"Oh, yeah, it's totally a thing. It's also a home for a certain species of swallowtail butterfly. Butterflies, they are picky as fuck. They'll only lay eggs on plants their caterpillars can eat. Like monarchs, those fuckers literally need milkweed or they're not reproducing. So if something happens to the milkweed plants in an area..." There's a gesture of 'you know what happens'.
"As for the current Hedge issue? I...managed to grow a sapling from the roots. One that's pure, that doesn't have the same problems as Queen Cypress. I'll be bringing it to Dover soon. If...big if...if I can convince Jacob Fireheart that this new sapling is a suitable substitute for the Queen Cypress, that they don't need to defend the sick tree, it opens up a lot of possibility space for us. Big fucking if."
"... yeah. Real big if. " She heaves a sigh and shoves a hand through wild curls, shaking her head. "It's stuff like this makes me hesitant to swear to anything or anyone without damn good reason. "I'll defend this tree" must have seemed like a nobrainer oath back in the day, but now the tree is a psycho cannibal dreamprison, and that changes all the things, you know?" She looks back to Lif. "Still. New sapling... it's a hell of a thing, being able to just nurture Hedge life like that. Well done, seriously."
"It took a lot of research and a lot of work. A little alchemy, a little feng shui, a little sleeping curled around the pot I was growing it in. My roommate must have thought I was insane; I told him I was going to go sleep with a tree." They shake their head, digging yet another hole. "Thank you. I've really been thirsty for someone to tell me I'm doing a good job. A lot of this has been very on-my-own stuff."
Vorpal lifts a finger, then sighs and lowers it. "I feel like it's only courteous to mention that I am clinically incapable of taking the statement "I've really been thirsty" entirely in the perfectly chaste manner in which it was meant. Though..." Johnnie takes a step nearer, head canted sidelong. "... how have you not been getting good jobs the whole way through when you've been doing stuff like this? Do you keep it to yourself?"
Johnnie's aside about 'I've really been thirsty' goes mostly ignored, but for a crooked little smirk. "You've seen my notes on the boards. I've been sharing." There's something a little defensive there. "I wasn't saying everything up front because of the promise I'm sealed to by Jacob Fireheart, but. I haven't exactly been hiding everything I'm doing. But...I think everyone's too focused on the work to notice one another at all right now. And I don't exactly have much of a support group. No close friends, no motley."
The smirk's enough.
"Yeah, I've seen it, that's sort of why I'm puzzled. I didn't expect to be on the "good job, Summer" vanguard for something besides taking some kid out to get blooded." She looks a touch off kilter, out of her element now. "Well... for what it's worth, I do think you did some really good work, especially since it opens up some alternative strategies with Cypress."
They smile softly, leaning the shovel against a tree and walking closer to Johnnie. "All those extra helpers of yours any good for a hug?"
"I've been told they're excellent icing on a huggy cake. C'mere." She spreads her arms, welcoming Lif in for a hug. It's not a bear hug by any means, but it's firm and sincere and all-encompassing on account of all those extra arms!
Johnnie's clothes might get a little damp. This is the risk of hugging on a water elemental who leaks. But Lif relaxes into the hug and lets out a contented sigh. "Thanks. I needed that. I have needed that for a while."
Damp doesn't concern the Helldiver, and Lif gets a really good hug, with all the best aspects of a close embrace and soothing backstroking as well. "Yeah. I got the idea once you mentioned no close friends, even. Physical isolation sucks. It sucks a lot. That was the worst part of my time There. Positive touch wasn't a thing. Ever. So. I indulge."
"Yeah, I didn't get touch either. I was...literally a well. Mimisbrunnr, specifically." Johnnie's surely been around Sigrun and Sturm enough to recognize something that sounds Old Norse, right?
"Mimi's what now?" Johnnie asks, hands drifting to settle at Lif's waist, resting on the curve of her hips. "What's- no, wait, those were flat sounds. Not Romantic. That's- not a well. That's Mimir's Well." Squint. "Your name is Norse too, isn't it?"
She nods a bit. "I was Kept by Grimnir, the Hooded One." One of the less commonly-used titles of Óðinn.
Johnnie twitches. "Fucking greedy son of a bitch," she hisses under her breath, hands tightening gently. "Uh. Okay. So, uh." Shadowfingers shove through her hair. "Did you know there's others from there hereabouts?" Delicate- hesitant. Unsure if she should be bringing it up directly but doing so anyway.
"Sturm and Sigrun. Sigrun freaked out when she met me, because with three of us here, he might send his huntsmen." There's a distinct frown. "Funny thing about that is that I'm pretty sure I've been in town longer than she has. But. It's alright, she can freak out and avoid me. I don't need any fucking support..."
The way she leans into Johnnie makes it clear just how much of a load of bullshit that is.
"Listen, I've- done. The whole strong solo soul thing. Like I ran it into the ground, Deified myself, honed everything until I was as close to unkillable as you could get and please trust me, Lif-" She sighs, though this is relief in not having to broach any crazy news to anybody else. "-everyone needs support. Maybe not fucking support, though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't my favorite variety, but support is vital. In a vacuum, we're prone to gaslighting ourselves, throwing things into rose-colored relief or shrouding it in apocalyptic presumption and the reality is almost always in the middle someplace. That's hard to keep track of alone."
"On the plus side, though, I-" Johnnie starts, then cuts off. "... never mind, I forgot about Nick. I- don't even wanna joke about Huntsmen right now."
"Probably not the best time for it, no. I'm...sorry to be laying out all my problems in front of you. But it's very nice to feel heard, right now. You're a lot better at listening than I might have expected you to be."
"Nah," deflects Johnnie. "You owe me no apologies. You shared. That's valuable, and vulnerable. I oughtta be thanking you for being open. And you deserve to be heard, you know? Everyone does, and nobody seems to be listening, so." She nods gently. "I've had a lot of practice listening. I kind of had to practice. Not super good normally."
"Careful, or I'll look for you specifically, to give you more excuses to practice. And...if there's anything I can do for you, I hope you'd let me know. Yeah?"
There's another flash of that wicked wit, and then it gets tamped back down, and she nods. "Okay. I will. I'm looking to learn more about dreamstuff, so I'm hoping I can come along with the team heading into the Cypress dream, but at the same time, with the likelihood that we get attacked here during that..." She shrugs helplessly. "But I like being helpful. If you're short on other people to listen, be glad to myself. Besides," she points out, patting Lif's hip. "It's not like there's nothing in it for me."
"Do you flirt with everyone like this?" They lift their chin, pond-water eyes looking up to meet Johnnie's. "Anyway, I'd want you on the team going into the tree. Probably on the group rescuing the Sleepers. I have a feeling that'll be a struggle, from the inside of the tree."
"Uh." Johnnie pauses, thinking back. "Actually, I used to? But after I got to Philly, I kinda fell outta practice. Which was okay, cuz. I mean, my family is pretty solidly phenomenal. But no, I guess I don't anymore." It doesn't seem like something she's considered.
"How much should I be reading into it, I guess, is the real question. Are you flirting to flirt and because it makes me feel soft and gooey inside--a real feat given that I'm already fluid--or do you want something?" The emphasis lands firmly on the word 'want' in a way that might remind Johnnie she's dealing with a former Spring courtier.
"See, you're coming at it from entirely the wrong direction," Johnnie murmurs, leaning in faintly so her words are delivered coyly straight into the curve of one terra cotta ear. "Flirting, because you deserve to feel soft and gooey inside, not because you might be inclined to reciprocate. No, that," she damn near purrs, "-would be what we in the business call a perk."
And that sends a nice shiver of pleasure down Lif's spine, before they turn and kiss Johnnie lightly on the cheek. It's soft quick. Testing, seeing where this leads. Their lips are cool and their skin is wet, as one might expect.
Even at the pressure of the kiss, Johnnie's cheeks curl up in a grin, following the retreating earthen face to return the gesture. Fingertips barely visible in the depth of night press lightly at hip and waist and shoulder- counterpoint to the very normal, warm touch of Johnnie's returned peck on the cheek. "I think- if only just to keep myself from wondering- I might leave things at that for now. If it's been that long since you've had some positive contact, I'd rather be sure I'm not just swooping in to fill a void." A squeeze to her hips. "So. No pressure or risk one way or the other. That sound reasonable?"
"Yeah, that sounds very reasonable. Let me get your number, so next time we can plan this in advance and I can wear the best pair of jeans for my ass." And there's the callout for the earlier staring, delivered with a smirk.
That earns an immediate laugh, delighted and shameless, followed by the widest, mischievous grin. "Fair enough. Absolutely fair enough. Here, then." She pulls out her cell and pulls her personal profile up for Lif, showing her the icon- solid black with a broad grin in white across the black void- and the phone number stored there.
Lif pulls out their own phone, catching the number and sending a text with a smiley face. "Excellent. Text me sometime."
"Deal. But it's gonna cost you. One hug, deliverable at any point during each of our hangouts, until you're not quite so starved for affection. I know, a stiff price, but sometimes medicine is expensive," Johnnie quips,
"I'll pay up." She laughs, as she takes the shovel back to her truck. "With interest."
"With interest, they say," grins Johnnie. "The interest? Is mine." She pauses. "Can I do that? Like the pleasure is mine, just- with interest instead? It doesn't sound like it's ignoring your side of things? Or."
"You know, I accept it. It works for me. But for now, I should get home. Say good night to the little ones you planted before you leave. They'll be good for the local ecosystem."
Johnnie drifts back over to the flowers and crouches, patting the earth near each of the plants. "Good night little guys and gals and enbies and others. It was fun planting you folx! Do rest well- see you another time!"
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