snowblindrpg | [log] Event: Metamorphosis, Part Three

[John has his fireplace poker at the ready, but while he'll defend them from the anomaly, there's more to learn here. And if that really is Flynn, then they need to figure out what's going on for him.]

I'm glad you're feeling better, Flynn, really. What room are you talking about, though? You've been in one?

It's having a conversation with us, that is significant.

[So there, Sherlock.]

And you shouldn't be conversing with it, both of you, it'll probably try to trick us. It's a bloody anomaly!

[And if it is Flynn Carsen somehow, oh well. It's still an anomaly and should be avoided and/or disposed of if possible. He keeps his umbrella out in front of him, wary.]

Don't call him an it, Mycroft. [John snaps that with a glare. Mycroft's going to make the anomaly go for them rather than talk, at this rate.]

Can you tell me why you're so happy currently?

[Sherlock ignores both Mycroft and John bickering, moving a bit closer to Flynn to try and get a better look at all the different changes that have been made to twist what had once been human.]

Yeah, the room. We were locked in there for days, it was awful.

[He shudders at the memory, the leaves trembling slightly. He remembers the nausea and the hunger. The terrible, terrible hunger.

He's really hungry.

At Mycroft's jab at his current state he scowls, glancing down at the umbrella with sudden disdain but Sherlock's question momentarily distracts him from the insults.]

It's just hard not to be, to be honest. It's like when you were very sick for a really long time and suddenly you feel healthy again and it's the best feeling in the world? If you knew how awful it was in that room you'd understand.

I mean, okay, okay. I get that I look weird? But just look at this! Isn't this amazing?

[He holds up his arm, showing off his flowers.]

We haven't seen plants in so long and now I can make them grow!

[He takes a step towards Sherlock, excited.] Do you wanna see?

Edited 2018-11-01 23:47 (UTC)

We can see them from here, they're so vibrant.

[John is just going to step forward and grab the back of Sherlock's coat and hold it like a parent with and errant child.]

Could you tell us more about the room, Flynn? Was it like those empty white rooms we were in for the maze?

[Sherlock is about to scowl at John for holding him back, when he gets a sudden and unusual burst of conscience. He's running into danger again, just as John keeps running to patients who kill him, and they're no longer working as a team. That needs to be rectified, they work better as a team.

So instead of pulling away, he steps a bit closer to John and subtly attempts to pass him the chunk of rubble with a murmur, lips barely moving.]

Vatican cameos?

[He wants to get closer, but he'll be ready to duck if the signal comes. Going into danger with John watching his back, rather than fighting against him. He hopes so, at least.

Mycroft, however, doesn't get a look in.]

[Thanks, Sherlock.

Mycroft observes from where he is, admittedly he's just as fascinated by this thing as he is horrified. He doesn't want Sherlock getting any closer, but John is useful in that regard, at least.]

It might not be real at all. It could be an illusion programmed to act like him.

[So yes. He's ignoring John.]

Yes, thank you, Mycroft. You don't want to talk to him or treat him like a person. We get it.

[John snaps that at the other man as he lets go of Sherlock's coat and takes the piece of rubble. He meets his friends eye, then nods sharply. He'll be ready to act the moment he hears those words or it looks like Flynn is getting to be a problem.]

They really are, aren't they.

[He glances down at his flowers with a dreamy expression on his face, missing the little rubble exchange.]

Yes, white and empty, like before. You were there and he was, too...

[He looks up and glances over at Mycroft, the scowl returning. One of the vines snaps aggressively in the direction of the umbrella.]

Not real? Hah! Of course you don't care about my plants. Don't think I forgot how you smudged my paintings either!

Edited 2018-11-03 13:29 (UTC)

[Sherlock feels pretty excited, any doubts about how safe this is are now assuaged by John at his back with rubble, and of Mycroft keeping a safe distance.

He takes three steps closer.]

Indeed, your flowers are beautiful, do you remember when exactly they bloomed?

[There's another irritable snap and one of the vines tries to reach the umbrella to yank at it, but then his focus wanders back to Sherlock.]

When I left the room. We all changed when we left the room. ... Well, actually probably before then, it was kind of weird and super painful, our bodies were all wrong and squishy. At least I think. It was dark? But we were finished when we left the room.

And then I could do this.

[He moves the hand not currently occupied with vinehissing at Mycroft, spreading a handful of saplings and spores on the ground around them. They quickly take root, intertwining and creeping over the icy surface.]

[That really doesn't look good. John keeps his eyes down on the spreading plants.]

That's brilliant, Flynn! You might be the one who'll actually give us plants back around here. Y'know, it'd probably survive better if you tried rooting in that one greenhouse down in the entrance area. You've been over there, right?

Edited 2018-11-14 05:02 (UTC)

Right? That's the plan. It's gonna be great!

[The plants keep spreading in spiraling circles, slowly making their way around and between the group.]

Greenhouse? I didn't... we have a greenhouse? Really? Man, I had no idea, I totally missed that...

[There's genuine excitement in his voice. He really needs to check that out! One of his viny hands suddenly snaps forward to wrap around John's arm.]

You should all come!

[Sherlock is mostly between John and Flynn, and so he attempt to stop that vine from wrapping around John's arm, but it just a fraction too slow.]

The rubble, John! Mycroft, the umbrella!

[Stab it in the vine with the rubble!

He doesn't have any more rubble himself, but he can still charge forward and attempt to knock Flynn right off his feet and into the snow, so that's what he'll do.]

[John startles when the vine wraps around his wrist and there's a sudden wave of dizziness that hits him as his nose starts bleeding profusely. It takes the doctor a moment to reorient, but when he does, he yanks against the anomaly's grip and slams the rubble he has down onto the vine where it's stretched tight.]

Wha-- ow!?

[Flynn flails in irritation when a sharp pain shoots up his vine. Black ink starts seeping out where the rubble hits and then Sherlock runs into him and it's a bit much and really not cool?]

What the hell are you guys doing!?

[He reaches out with his free hand to wrap it around Sherlock's neck, trying to push him away and into the ground. More vines lash out at John irritably in an attempt to slap the rubble out of his hand and yank him off his feet.]

[Mycroft waves his umbrella in alarm as Sherlock and John manage to fight off the vine, but then Sherlock goes crashing into Flynn and--

--he tries to stab the pointy-end of his rubble-brella at what's wrapping itself around Sherlock's neck--]

Unhand him you monstrous fiend!

Mycroft run!

[The idiot! His nose is bleeding heavily, he feels dizzy, and the rubble is slapped away quickly. John finds himself face down in the snow a moment later as he's jerked by the vines. He grapples with Flynn now, going so far as to attempt to bite the vine holding him.]

[Damn.

Sherlock feels a sudden wave of nausea as the vine snaps around his neck, his vision blurring and his limbs feeling weak. He does his best to claw at the vines, but his hands feel heavy and clumsy, and it's getting inordinately hard to breathe.

He can hear John and deduce from that that Mycroft is still free, and so he kicks snow in his brother's general direction to try and make him back off.]

[And there's the umbrella. Seriously? Again!? Genuine anger flashes on Flynn's face at Mycroft's intervention and the pointy end stabbing him. Again.]

I told you to keep that thing away from me!

[Another of Flynn's vines wraps itself around the handle and Mycroft's wrist. He tugs at both, spinning it around and forcefully rams the umbrella back into Mycroft's shoulder. There, how do you like that? Not so fun having a piece of dirty rubble embedded in you, is it?! Jerk!

Except he also yelps in indignant irritation when John bites him. Come on! Flynn lashes out, striking him across the face and the back, the vines cracking like whips while the grip around Sherlock's neck tightens.]

You lied to me, didn't you! You don't really care about my plants either!

[The saplings and spores on the ground keep spreading, taking root, proceeding to climb over the icy ground and creeping up legs and whatever other unlucky body parts happen to be close to the ground.]

Why can't you guys just trust me!? I know what I'm doing!

[No, this can't be happening? The vines wrap around the handle of his umbrella and then suddenly--]

AAAUUUUGGGHHH--

[The rubble's now sticking in his shoulder and his attack has failed, considerably. Now he's too distracted, trying to get the damn thing unstuck. Probably going to get infected too--]

Damn you!

Edited 2018-12-10 07:11 (UTC)

[John's attention is split between Sherlock, his own predicament, and Mycroft's. He cries out in pain when he's lashed in the face--his back is protected by many coats, thankfully--but that's nothing compared to when the roots reach his hand. He's aware of them as a searing pain, like multiple needles piercing into him.

The doctor's attention snaps to that hand, and he sees what's happening. Fear rips through him, threatening to take over, but John locks it down. Need to warn the others, then get this off. He can do this. He has to do this. He and Sherlock are almost certainly dead. Mycroft doesn't have to be.]

Roots! Stay away from the ro-agh!

[They're they're spreading up his arm, sinking thorough, even as John tries to get his other hand free from Flynn and rip at the things before they can consume him. It just gets them all over his other hands where the roots start burrowing in.]

[It's too late for him.

Logical analysis if the situation tells him that much, the vine is too tightly wrapped around his throat and he can feel his vision blacking out, taste the blood on his lips where it's streaming down from his nose.

But he can still attempt to distract it long enough to save John and Mycroft.

So he twists as he best he can and hurls himself, feet first, at Flynn's head even if it means the vines tighten around his throat.]

Why can't you just accept that I'm good at this? I've got 22 degrees! I know what I'm doing! Just look at these plants, I made them! I can save this town!

[It's angry and petulant but also uncomprehending, almost like a child that doesn't get his way.]

I'll prove it to you!

[He turns towards John, the flowers on his shoulders opening, spewing more outgrowths and pollen, spreading them everywhere, on arms, legs, face.

He also yanks the umbrella out of Mycroft's shoulder only to ram it right back in. Like you even deserve his flowers.

Only then Sherlock's feet ram into him and his head snaps back. He stumbles back, sputtering, more out of shock than actual effect.]

D-did you... did you just kick me in the face!? You're such a jerk!

[As suspected, the vines tighten around Sherlock's throat and Flynn pulls him up by the neck only to slam him back down into the icy ground.]

cw: body horror/parasitism, eye horror

jumpthegun - 2018-12-16 21:00 (UTC) - Expand

[log] Event: Metamorphosis, Part Three

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cw: body horror/parasitism

cw: body horror/parasitism

cw: body horror/parasitism

cw: body horror/parasitism, eye horror