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Eternal Summer

✖ The Isle That Blooms

Ⅰ. ALWAYS BLOOMING, NEVER HARVEST
July flowers bring, well, August flowers.

Another month has come and gone, and you may have noticed things haven’t changed much. Everything is still beautiful. There are still no signs of babies or prepubescent children or young animals.

In fact, if you’re paying close enough attention, you may have noticed there are no fruits or grains or vegetables that have come from the constant riot of color and pollen. Only flowers, always flowers.

You still have access to the city’s temple and the baths. The High Temple’s doors are open to everyone.

Some of you may still be dealing with the unpleasant side effects of the Ancient’s now dead and gone Flower Oracle, but it should wind down before the end of the month. Or maybe you already faced your demons.

Hiding out in the Temples for the rest of the month is always an option, but be careful not to get too stagnant. It would be a shame if your ScryWatch stays stuck on the same color forever because you, too, decided to stop growing.

Ⅱ. FLOWER MARKET FESTIVAL
CW: Optional Alcohol/Drug Consumption.
You didn’t think the celebrations would be over just because the Flower Oracle came and went, did you? There’s always a new event, a new thing to do, a new way to make some benefit off the Travelers who pass in and out of the Isle looking to take something away from this place.

This month it’s the Flower Market!

During the days, stalls bloom beneath the elevated buildings and in the empty center where the Flower Oracle once stood. There are flowers, of course, in buckets, arrangements, wreaths, crowns, growing in tiny little pots, made into cakes, salsas, and snacks! Artists will find pigments, paints, inks, dyes, and papers. There are perfumes, lotions, oils, soaps, and more. Spices and herbs are abundant; you’ve certainly never seen saffron this cheap. If you haven’t gotten enough tie-dye from the temple, you’ll find beautiful batik clothing, purses, and even jewelry. Everything is bright, everything is for sale.

At night, the stalls are all folded away and instruments come out. Little stalls sell flowery alcoholic drinks and did you know or remember that cannabis is a flowering plant? The locals certainly remembered to make the edibles. Careful, though, drink or imbibe and you’ll find yourself talking about the things you need that you cannot buy. The things you are aching for.

And you won’t stop until someone acknowledges it.

Notes:
1. If you want it and it’s made of flowers, it’s here. No drugs or alcohol during daylight hours.

2. The Temple gives a small amount of spending money daily. Save up and get fancy, or buy a little bit of everything.

3. There is a tiny group of unknown Travelers that show up for the market. They don’t seem to have access to the same network as PCs, but their watches flash green, blue, or purple. They seem to be avoiding PC Travelers and disappear into parts of the Temples that don’t seem to be open to our group yet whenever they get too close.

Ⅲ. POISON GARDEN
CW: Poisons, narcotics, ect.
As you wander the now familiar village, you will notice a new pathway has opened at the edge of the village. It leads to an area with a high stone fence and a heavy gate. A skull and crossbones are painted on the gate in bright white paint, but there’s nothing actually stopping you from opening the gate and walking in.

The garden is beautiful, but surprisingly formal after the chaotic abundance of the rest of the Isle. The paths are wide and there’s space between the plants. Each one is meticulously labeled with a stake in the ground.

Do you read the labels? How long does it take you to realize everything in the garden is toxic or poisonous? There are so many options from hemlock and oleander to aconitum and angel’s trumpet and beyond.

Welcome to a study on how not everything that's natural is good for you as you continue to wander the fractal paths. Of course, not everything that's poisonous has no purpose. By the opium poppies there’s a sign that tells you that you can choose to wander the deadly garden until it kills you or you can own up to a toxic habit or behavior that you need to deal with.

Notes:
1. In theory, a character could wander forever without touching or consuming any of the poisons. For plot/fun reasons, feel free to make it a little more difficult. And remember, some of your characters can be poisoned to death.

2. Acknowledging bad habits or a need for change in an honest way is very likely to result in a shift in a ScryWatch color. Remember, the Ancient is looking for growth and improvement, not moral perfection.

3. Characters can collect poisonous or medicinal plants but will be at risk while doing so.

Ⅳ. FLOWERY FIELDS FOREVER

Maybe you need to get away from the fuss at the market or just want to stretch your legs, but it’s time to explore the flowering landscape around the village. The villagers have baskets waiting at each of the outbound trails with the request that you come back with the basket full in trade for the picnic lunch they provide.

Wander the rolling hills and you’ll find a surprising amount of wildlife for an island without offspring. There are hummingbirds the size of chihuahuas, tiny pollinating bats, nectar eating possums, giant stingless bees, and more butterflies than you can shake a stick at. All of them seem entirely unafraid of humans despite being wild animals. If you get bitten or pecked, it’s your own fault.

As you fill your basket, you’ll notice patterns in what blooms. All kinds of plants bloom outside of reason and season and traditional need because the land is trying to talk to you through flowers. What did you need to hear? The villagers can help you translate when you come back from your adventure.

Notes:
1. The giant orchid mantises are still there! Thank Gideon and Harrow for negotiating a truce, so they probably won’t eat you. A mantis might even have a conversation with you if you ask nicely, (Quentin managed somehow,) and they have their own knowledge and worship of the Ancient.

2. Feel free to use any reference for plant/flower meaning. Here’s one to get started!

3. Don’t get too attached to any of the critters, they will stay here at the end of the month.

Bonus: music to watch the flowers bloom to.

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Kyle bristles. "How is that problematic?" he says defensively.

His mood isn't improved by Quentin's sarcastic and (frankly accurate) assessment of his flaws. "Oh, fuck you," he grumbles. "And neither of those things is toxic even if they WERE true!"

He doesn't wince at the crack of the shotgun. He's too used to it.

When nothing happens he sighs and looks at the poppies. "I'm not toxic," he mutters.

"Hey man it's your faith. You should move to Williamsburg and try to get the Jew Scouts going. I'm sure you'll find plenty of people who'll tell you why that's a bad idea."

His psionic shot gun smoulders as he looks on with suspicion and frustration at the lack of impact his effort seems to have made. "At least one of those things definitely is. And hey weren't we just talking about your tendencies towards toxic masculinity or did I dream that? Literally right there on the tin, pal."

There is a moment where Kyle radiates a very simple, very old emotion: hurt. He thinks he's being made fun of again for the same goddamn thing as always and it shouldn't hurt at this point but it does. There's a second where all he wants to do is cry.

Immediately smothering that impulse, of course, is a white hot anger that most would find at odds with Kyle's usual rather pleasant boy-next-door demeanor.

"Didn't we JUST decide it wasn't really toxic masculinity since it isn't hurting anybody if I don't give a shit about hair products?" Kyle snaps back. "I'm guessing your powers are pretty fucking useless at getting us out of here, as suspected."

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks a little ways away, because Quentin is beginning to look extremely punchable.

"What about YOU, anyway? It said we both have to own up to something. I can't imagine you will since you seem to think you're perfect."

"Pftf, maybe YOU did. It's still toxic masculinity, even if it's hurting your own dumb ass more than anyone else."

He projects that so fiercely that it's almost enough to grab Quentin's attention, but before he can latch onto the source of that thought, it's replaced with something angry and Quentin gravitates even more readily to rage.

His brow furrows at that accusation. "Hey, at least I TRIED something! What are you bringing to the table, normie? If you're SO desperate to get out of the toxic garden just play their game and admit how fucked up you are!"

That shotgun of his dissipates. Morphing into something more innocuous when Kyle turns away from him. With a pink slingshot in hand he flings a little wad of that energy he conjures up until it hits Kyle in the back of head just hard enough to feel like a flick, but more shockingly it inspires a rush of memories involving any time Kyle embarrassed himself.

"You're right. I'm not perfect. I'm kind of petty," he says. His smile nefarious.

"Or maybe I just don't want to waste my whole morning with exfoliating or trying on six outfits or whatever and that's totally FINE."

He isn't expecting that flick, and he REALLY isn't expecting a hit parade of mortification: stumbling over his words, calling people by the wrong name, saying "you too!" in response to "enjoy!", tripping and falling, inappropriate erections, the first time he ever tried to unhook a bra, the first time he got to kiss a boy and he did it all wrong. Feeling stupid, feeling awkward and weird and lonely.

Kyle doesn't have to stop and think about what happened. He knows what it was, who was responsible and why. He knows Quentin has probably just seen over a dozen of his embarrassing moments.

He turns on his heel and launches himself at Quentin, hands gripping the front of his shirt and shaking him like a terrier with a rat

"Don't you go in my head without my permission! Don't you DARE, that's not YOURS, it's mine and you can't just SEE it!"

His mind is intent on playing back every single smart remark of Quentin's that's gotten under his skin. Calling him normie and problematic and boring and fucked up. He thinks about Carter asking why Kyle keeps following after the guy if he hates him so much.

He stops shaking Quentin abruptly, eyes huge and skin ghostly white.

"I like you," he says. "I like fighting with you. That IS fucked up, that ISN'T healthy, but oh my god I love screaming at you. I've missed this so much."

"Who cares about your skin care routines, you braindead hick!? No one thinks you're toxically masculine because you don't know how to condition your hair properly! I called you out on your toxic masculinity because you're the type of dude to literally say I'm not sensitive and then get into a fist fight over someone's stupid opinions, like anger isn't an emotional state because it's the manly feeling!"

Salient point or not it's all quickly forgotten when Kyle's got his fists balled in Quentin's shirt and he's barking his demands. "Get offa me!" he struggles a little. Not as much as one might if they actually feared for their safety in the hands of an attacker. But a little. And then quite unexpectedly Kyle stops.

"Uh. Are you ok?" he blinks and looks at the hands still frozen in their grip on him. "I didn't even break your brain this time. I could have but I didn't..."

Turns out he's not broken though. Just stumbling through some realization of his own. And Quentin can backtrack that moment of genuine concern easily enough.
He huffs and pulls himself away to sweep the wrinkles out of his shirt. "What do you mean missed? You've known me for like one fiscal quarter," he mumbles.

"You, sure," Kyle replies. He looks at his hands as if he isn't sure who stapled them to his wrists.

"It's the dynamic. You're one of the most deliberately antagonistic people I've ever met in my life, and just pretending you don't exist is probably the smart thing to do. But I won't. I can't."

He looks back up, first at all of the flowers, then back at Quentin. Azaleas and oleander, he thinks.

"I grew up with this. This exact pattern. When I moved away I thought I'd grown up or something, but now I think I just never met anybody who would engage with me that way. Which is good. You're not supposed to get a kick out of screaming matches."

He sighs, the exhalation long and wavering. "But I do. And you're so annoyingly good at it, and so fucking impossible to leave alone with your dumb smug smile and your ridiculous hair and your cosmopolitan veneer and your adorable stupid nose and cute fucking face. I hate you, dude."

Not unlike the way Quentin struck a chord with him by unwittingly treading a little too close to some familiar anti-semitism, there's an old injury to Quentin's pride that's set alight, like hot water over an old burn, by the implication that Kyle would be better off without him. He folds his arms tightly over his chest, girding himself with apathy.

"Hey, I don't need your fucking charity. No one's got a gun to your head. Go hang around with whoever you want see what I care," he sulks.

It's premature of course. Less talking and a moment's more listening proves as much. It's a confusion at first. Untangling Kyle's frustration from his... what is that? Attraction? Whatever it is, it's enough to salve his pride.

"So. Are you saying you should stop hanging around me because I'm enabling your shitty behaviour or whatever? Or... are you just trying to say you think I'm cute."

Edited 2021-08-10 17:15 (UTC)

That sulking might be mistaken for apathy by some, but not by Kyle. Oh no, he's far too used to that exact tone.

Kyle stares at Quentin, trying desperately to work through the bald facts he himself has laid out. He's a bright man, but emotions are much more slippery than facts.

It's funny to watch, though. Kyle's considerable brows draw together, his lips part just a bit before closing again, his forehead smooths, and then the process repeats.

"I think you're cute," he finally admits. "The fact that I can talk to you and you actually understand what I'm saying sure doesn't hurt, either." He gestures at the flowers all around them, a sweeping and somehow helpless flail of his arms. "And the whole... wanting to throttle you thing, which okay, fine, Magic Garden, you win, my toxic behaviour is sublimating sexual attraction into bickering. Or something."

He wraps his skinny arms around himself.

"I'm sorry. I understand if you want me to stay on the other side of the island, now."

It's a good thing Quentin's attention tends to be so scattered because when it's all concentrated on Kyle like it is now it errs towards overly intense. Even his plain faced expression is some part suspicious, and some part calculating. But after a rare quiet moment, that self-satisfied grin dominates his expression again.

"I'll take cute," he shrugs. "It's no sexy, but I think I make it work."

When he's done relishing that massive ego boost his attention snaps around to Kyle before the man ca fully distance himself from that admission. "Hey! What? Chill out! I'm not gonna no-homo you or whatever. It's cool. I'm an evolved millennial mutant. I was pan before it was cool," he babbles, hopping a few steps closer to Kyle. "You're cute too, you know? For a guy who wouldn't know a Brogue from a Chelsea if it kicked him in the ass."

Edited 2021-08-10 18:54 (UTC)

That grin causes Kyle to roll his eyes, although it's more force of habit than anything else. Below the surface annoyance he's a little disturbed by how much he enjoys being the focus of Quentin's fierce attention.

That, he thinks, really does jump from cute to sexy.

He looks at Quentin suspiciously. "I'm not cute," he says with the same assurance as someone would say 'water is wet.'

A wry little grin gets pulled from him. "I don't know what either of those are," he admits. He's pleased not to be told to go away, and is mentally preparing himself to resume his place as friend-with-feelings-we-don't-ever-acknowledge-again. It's a bitter sort of relief.

"Shut up. I didn't ask what you think about you," Quentin says flippantly when Kyle denies him any acceptance of that compliment.

"Of course you don't," his bottom lip juts out just a little and he gives Kyle a gentle but intentionally patronizing pat on the cheek. "C'mon. Let's go see if the gate is open," he grabs Kyle's hand and leads them that way without a second thought for the fact that he didn't really cop to much at all. Whatever that means for getting out of here.

As usual, such casual physical kindness from a sort-of frenemy just throws Kyle off of his game completely. But you're MY little monster, he hears deep in his mind.

He nods and follows Quentin along. He's owned up to enough to make it open for him, if he were alone. Whether or not Quentin simply admitting his pettiness is enough remains to be seen; Kyle's not getting out unless it is.

Kyle's bashful reluctance feels silly to Quentin after what was just confessed, but like with most things he thinks are silly, he's perfectly happy to ignore it.

It takes some trying to actually find the gate, but when they do it doesn't budge— much to his consternation. "Oh come on!" he groans "We played the game! We did the thing! What does it want now? Maybe there's another sign..."

"I mean, I played the game," Kyle points out. "All you said was that you're petty. That's not toxic, it's just like... normal. Most people are petty, they just don't admit it. You'd have to be extremely so for it to poison your life."

He studies the gate, then Quentin. "Are you petty out of all consuming envy or something? Because frankly I have a hard time picturing that."

"Hey, I followed the rules! It doesn't say anything about the fucking gravity of the issue! If it wants something specific it can put that in writing!" He complains like there might be some authority listening and ready to address his problems with things.

He wrinkles his nose at Kyle. "Well, you should. Do I look like I'm wildly envious of people?" He huffs. Maybe he should have gone with impatience.

Kyle snorts. "Yeah, I don't think it's going to argue with us, dude."

Quentin's snotty mini tantrum is honestly funny, and Kyle fails abysmally at hiding his amusement.

"No," he says. "You don't. But there's that whole idea that people deride what they secretly covet and shit. So maybe deep down... I dunno. You're an interesting one.

"You definitely are deliberately antagonistic, though. I wasn't wrong about that."

"I know! And that's fucking bullshit too! Cowards!" he gripes almost endlessly. It's enough to make him completely miss the amusement Kyle's taking from his suffering.

"An interesting one? Calm down, Goodall. You're not studying the chimps out here,” he mumbles.

"Maybe I just don't need a bunch of landscapers to tell me about mindfulness or whatever we're supposed to learn from this. The whole things smacks of some insufferable paternalism!" He throws his arms open wide, still sort of talking as much to their invisible keepers as to Kyle himself. "And if that makes me STUBBORN, or ANTAGONISTIC so be it! I'd rather be a thoughtful skeptic than a mindless optimist! I don't care how unpopular that makes me! I'd rather see things for what they are and be hated than end up anyone's beloved chump!"

Kyle giggles. "Okay, okay, sorry. I meant it in a good way."

Watching Quentin essentially yell at the sky is, again, amusing. But beneath all of that posturing is a clue to what Quentin might have once been, or might still be when alone.

"I think maybe you care a little bit," Kyle says carefully. "But you're right. It IS better to be the thoughtful skeptic. It IS better to see things for what they are."

He chews his lower lip a little. "...I like you. For what it's worth. Because of those qualities. Even if they're toxic, or whatever."

He deflates sort of breathlessly and furrows his brow at Kyle. Not out of anger but just because he looks a little grumpy when he's thinking and Kyle has a way of making him think. Which is more than he can say about most humans.

"I'm not blind. I know it chases people off," he says. "I know it makes people think it's like, more trouble than I'm worth or whatever. Maybe knowing that and still doing it is toxic."

A glowing pink glove surrounds his hand and he snaps off a sprig of oleander. "These plants evolved that way because it's useful to their survival. It's their only defence mechanism against specialist insects or disease spreading organisms or even densely populated herbivores. So like... even if it doesn't make life easier for everyone else, toxicity doesn't necessarily mean there's something that needs to be changed about them. They're just doing what they gotta do to keep growing.

"I like you too. Especially the troubling parts."

Is it possible that Quentin is simply providing them both with a convenient excuse not to change? Yes. Probable, even. But it makes sense.

"Yeah," Kyle says. "It's not deadly to the poisoner."

And then he finds himself smiling dopily. "The troubling parts, huh? Yeah, I guess you've seen lots of em."

Probable indeed. But not unfounded. "And you know what? They're not poisonous to everyone. They don't scare away the pollinators they need. Bees can handle them just fine."

With that flower in his guarded hand he heads back to Kyle and the gate they tried earlier. "Maybe a few," he shrugs. "Neither of us are exactly pretending we're someone we're not over here. You're weird. I like weird people. They're mostly honest and they're definitely not boring."

He smiles at the goofy grin on Kyle's face. It's not an expression he thinks he's seen much of before, but makes a chuckle rumble up in his belly. "Maybe people like us don't need other people to like us. Maybe we just need to find some bees."

Kyle follows along, eyes ticking over the oleanders again as he does. He makes a note to himself to ask Elenore what the effects of their poison is. They smell sweet, that he can tell.

Kyle starts giggling. He hates that he does - he knows how incredibly stupid he sounds - but he can't help it. "Oh, Quentin," he says with bogus solemnity. "Pollinate me."

He holds that flower a minute wondering where to put it. None of the culty looking linens this place offered them to wear have pockets so he presses his psionically gloved hand against Kyle's chest —flower and all. The energy shifts to form a little pink square like an intangible pocket that clings to Kyle for the time being and holds that toxic plant on him like a boutineer.

"GOD, you made it weird!" He snorts at the giggling sound Kyle makes and scrunches up his face at those words. "Dork," he laughs and shoves Kyle away from him a little, just to reel him in again.

"I swear to God if that fucking gate hasn't had enough by now..."

Edited 2021-08-11 03:56 (UTC)

Kyle looks down at that delicate, deadly flower. He feels seen in a way he's not used to.

He cackles as he's pushed away, cackling again with surprise when he's tugged back. "It was already weird!" he protests, stumbling close enough that it seems like a brilliant idea to put his hands on Quentin's shoulders.

Utterly brilliant. Means he has something to cling to when he decides that he's already humiliated himself a ton and he might as well kiss the man he was pretty much ready to beat to a pulp earlier.

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