[prp] the old bones (jack & ???)

[medigel]

It didn't jump out at him for at least a week. Other things got in the way. School, work, his own forced free time that often devolved into one of the former. Old projects from the previous timeline that had been morphed into a familiar shade in this one. He no longer pursued ghost stories a majority of the time, because those didn't have to be proved any more. He knew things walked and crawled and lurched and oozed beyond his reckoning, and the people now whispered about it more. No, he needed more concrete threads to follow, and somehow that narrowing of the search field made his hobby equally harder and easier to continue. Easier because it meant he could cross off false leads from the get-go; harder because it meant he had less to obsess about.

So the articles about the state forest had been skimmed over and forgotten at first. Rotting trees weren't exactly the stuff of intrepid adventures, especially after the ones he had found himself stumbling into lately. But one Sunday morning, when he finally had worked out with his partner a deal to switch out shifts, Jack decided to hit that tab again in his sea of open links and read it over in full. The lack of explanation was as good as anything to look into; it meant leaving the apartment and ignoring his other problems as well, which was better.

There was something about walking around trees that soothed him. It reminded him of the old Michigan camps his family used to visit in his childhood. Like the plants, far older than him or his father or his father's father, knew something he didn't. Hell, he was pretty sure they did. Magic and all. In the state park, Jack and his trusty camera headed along one of the paths, diverging only when he saw some of the aforementioned rot ahead.
 

[shibrogane]

Deeper in the section of rotting trees, Renard had a collection of sterile sample cups and a very thin knife and was taking samples. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, revealing the riotous color-explosion of his tattoos: flowers and watercolor washes and abstracted lines. They disappeared under the nitrile gloves protecting his hands from the ooze as he flaked off pieces of the rot into one of the screwtop containers.

"Hello, Mr. Hawthorn," said Renard, not turning to look. He screwed the top back onto his container and held it up to the dappled light. It warped oddly, leaving an oily trail behind it when it settled back to its initial size. "Come to see what's going on with the new sigil?"

medigel

I just grabbed someone from the incentivized RP list, hope that's ok biggrin

 

[medigel]

Jack tilted his head as he approached, watching the strange nature of the sample the man had taken. It wasn't as bad as the world warping that had happened prior to the reset, but it was eerie nonetheless.

"A sigil is tied to the trees? I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," he said, letting his camera rest for a moment. Was the man familiar? Jack wondered if he might have heard that voice at the Faerie Ball...

shibrogane

totally fine!

 

[shibrogane]

Renard smiled close-mouthed at Jack. "Renard Leroux. I believe we may have met in passing at a party over the summer." He set the filled sample jar back in the bag and began the process again. "As for the sigil, I assume it must be. This certainly doesn't match any known oak rot." He gestured with the hand holding the knife. "I didn't see you at the creation of the new sigil, so I suppose it makes sense that you're as confused as I am."

medigel

 

[medigel]

"Mm...The plague doctor?" he ventured. His memory was a little fuzzy about the event.

Now at the tree, Jack gave the unnatural rot a closer look. Logic told him not to, curiosity told him to try. "I was holding the portal open with the other two," he said, compromising and letting his hand rest on a healthy part of the oak for the moment. "The timelines twist together past that. But no, I didn't play a part with any sigil, and yes, confused would be a good word. Would you care to let me in on that?"

His posture implied more than just an explanation. The oily substance in the jar drew his attention almost as much as the rot by his fingers.

"I'd rather be more active in these issues from now on, for my own sanity."

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

"The other two would be... the Mercers," said Renard, who neither confirmed nor denied being the plague doctor, which was sort of an answer in itself. "If my husband is correct." He set another filled jar down. "I believe this rot has its source in magic. One of the principals, that is, one of the primary casters of the new sigil... Something must have intervened to change their relationship to the magic. I aim to find out what."

He arched a brow at Jack. "It's my experience that becoming more active in these things only makes your sanity more tenuous, not less."

medigel

 

[medigel]

"Nothing is worse than being passive in your fate," Jack asserted with the sort of weight that said it was either a sensitive issue or a very annoying one. "If something is happening, being ignorant to it won't help you."

A breath.

"Who are the principles? What could be possible be changing?"

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

"That's not something I was privy to," said Renard. "I've never encountered this before. I doubt I'll be able to find an answer quickly, if at all." He set the next screwtop jar down in his bag and began to clean his tools. "I'm afraid I don't have any answers for you right now. Perhaps later."

medigel