Poison Ivy (i_garden) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-05-08 15:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | charlie crews, pamela isley |
Fruit, Glorious Fruit! (Charlie, Ivy, to be continued in comments)
Ivy had spent the afternoon exploring the City. It was much like Gotham-dirty, polluted, filled with concrete that strangled any soil that might nourish plants. Unlike Gotham, the citizens of this City had yet to have someone teach them the error of their ways. She had a lot of work to do. And though she’d already punished a few offenders, her mood still hadn’t lifted.
Until she happened upon a sprawling yard that was extremely out of place amidst the sea of buildings. Somehow in the middle of the City, there was a mansion along with an ample yard. There were fruit trees in all colors, fully flowered and stretching up and out as though soaking up every bit of sun allowed into the yard, which was an oasis amidst the skyscrapers that clogged up the air and blocked sun from most other parts of the City.
Ivy approached the trees cautiously, taking a moment to commune with them and sense their emotions. They were content, and even well-cared for. While the person who had planted and kept them up might not have been an expert, he or she had certainly given the trees a lot more care than most humans might. She ran a hand along the trunk of one of the trees, lovingly caressing it as she reveled in this small bit of utopia amidst the hell that was the City’s streets and buildings.
----
Charlie was concerned about his partner. They’d had an interesting couple of days, and then...He hadn’t want to interfere in her business, but he felt that the doctor needed to be told how he should handle Jennifer. Or more, Charlie wanted to know the whole story. Yes, Jennifer could have found the answers on her own, yet Charlie wanted to make sure she got all of them. Men weren’t always as open with their girlfriends and lovers as they were with very big men who looked like death walking and not in that Grim Reaper/Goth way either. Charlie would get what he wanted from the boy.
That had been the plan, but the detective knew sometimes plans didn’t work out. Something was always keeping him from finding the truth. There were more murders. These were darker, messier, than the first had been. They were amateur hour compared to the expert scene that had come along the first time. So, Charlie couldn’t see what Simon was about.
He was too tired to deal with the doctor when he got off work that afternoon. No one had a normal schedule when murder was the days’ business. He needed an apple, which would probably be waiting for him. Fruit was good, and thankfully they had every sort of fruit available outside at home. It was good.
When he got home, he changed into jeans and a tee, didn’t bother with the shoes. The grass felt good, what there was of it. The dirt felt just as good. He looked tired, but happy as he stepped out of the mansion and started to walk into the grove(s).
----
Ivy heard the light footsteps long before she turned to look at the redhaired man who was entering the grove. She remained silent and merely watched with curiosity, wondering if this was the owner of the trees.
If so, she was conflicted. She had been in quite a mood that day and there were a few poisoned litterbugs to show for it. She also had been in need of a new plaything, but anyone who could show trees the respect she had found here might not be so bad.
So she waited patiently for events to unfold as they would.
----
Charlie didn’t talk to the trees, not exactly. He wasn’t overly touchy feely with them. He just walked through them. It wasn’t the walk of an owner, but a communer, if such things were possible. He liked the ground and grass against his toes and soles of his feet. He liked feeling the slight breeze and smelling the ripening fruit that danced with earth. He liked this place.
“An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” The apples were calling to him; they usually did. It was one of his favorite fruits after all. Not that he’d ever admit to having a favorite fruit; he wouldn’t want the other fruit to be jealous after all. Now and then he’d look for a strawberry tree that had chocolate sap, somewhat concerned that it’d actually show up in the mixed fruit grove. Charlie was fairly certain whatever the City was it wouldn’t do that, and there were were times he was concerned about the fruit trees being so very mixed. Were they going to have a hybrid fruit one day?
He found the tree he’d been looking for, the one that felt right, and he looked over the fruit. Which one would he pick? They all looked so good.
----
Ivy took a few steps toward the man, quiet but not attempting to mask her footfalls. She was curious enough to allow herself to be seen.
“Did you plant these trees?” she asked.
----
Charlie didn’t jump, but his hand did go for the gun that wasn’t there. He shouldn’t have to worry about his safety in his own home, or outside it as the case may be. He shouldn’t have to be concerned. Yet, he knew he was a cop, and there were murderers out in the world, the City. He also knew that there were highly insane types who needed serious help. So, reaching for the gun that wasn’t there, which was soon turned to a rub of knuckles against his side before his hand dropped completely, wasn’t all that surprising. Not for him anyway.
“No. They were here when I moved in.” Not a complete lie. “I like fruit.” As if that could explain why he’d have trees, or why he’d move to a mansion that had a grove so very close to it.
“Are you the wood nymph who lives in the grove? The groovy grove wood nymph?” She had that odd greenish tint to her, and he had to smile at the red hair. Not many gingers in the world.
----
So he hadn’t planted the trees. Perhaps not quite as interesting as she’d originally thought. Ivy laughed softly at the wood nymph question.
“Wood nymph? I’ve certainly been called worse.” She held out her hand with what she hoped was a friendly grin.
“I’m Ivy.”
----
“Ivy.” Charlie’s eyes narrowed as he sized her up. He took the hand and gave it a quick yet firm shake. “Charlie. So, Ivy, what are you doing in the grove?” It was a nice way of asking what she was doing on private property, even if the property didn't exactly have a fence around it.
----
Ivy held onto his hand for just a moment longer, gently prodding at the pheromones before she released it. She grinned widely.
“I was passing by and the trees caught my attention. They were just so lovely that I had to stop. Who cares for them?”
----
Charlie’s head tilted. It wasn’t that he noticed she was doing anything. No, it looked more as if he were seeing her for the first time. She was rather attractive, but he thought that when he first saw her, even with the hint of green to her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, not yet. He’d figure it out though; he always did. There was something about her, and he like dit.
“I see. They tend to look after themselves. They’re good trees.” He smiled at the strange woman, Ivy, before looking up into the trees. “They give people fruit. The apples are really good. Actually all the fruit is good.”
----
“They are good trees,” Ivy agreed.
Her grin widened as the pheromones seemed to take effect judging from the change in facial expression and body language. She moved a little closer to Charlie and her hand slid up his chest.
“So, does this field belong to you?” she asked, still trying to get to the bottom of the mysterious trees.
Then again, the City seemed to have quite a few unexplained mysteries so far.
----
Charlie’s hand quickly captured hers, keeping it from going too far up. He shivered just a little at the touch. His free hand reached out and pulled her close. Yes, the pheromones were certainly doing a number on the detective. He looked down at her for a moment.
“It is mine as much as anything can be mine. As much as any piece of earth can be anyone else’s.” His smile was dark with a hint of hunger to it. “Technically, no, this grove belongs to the man who owns the mansion. I am not that man. I just live there.” He didn’t corrrect or add to that, as if he didn’t care what she thought of his living situation. He really didn’t care. What happened between Ted and him really wasn’t for anyone else to know, especially not some green tinted fiery haired beauty.
“Why do you care who owns the trees?” He could only think of a few reasons, and he wasn’t going to let Ted come to harm. Her special “abilities” would be put to the test when it came to the bond between those to men.
----
Ivy removed her hand from Charlie’s chest for the moment and moved to touch one of the trees. It responded with a small, contented shudder and then its branches began to sway slightly. She turned back to him, a small grin on her face.
“I was just curious. I like trees, and it’s so rare to find people who give nature the respect she deserves. It’s particularly rare within a City.”
----
“The City is an odd place to begin with. Rare in fact.” Charlie didn’t exactly follow after her, but his body did lean toward her, just enough to suggest a following after. He watched her carefully, if not a little warily. No woman this beautiful could be safe; he’d had odd experiences in his life time, and that was all before he’d come to the City. Living in LA tended to provided for odd and interesting. Feeling the way he did about this woman was not the highest on his list of odd, but it was sudden. Then again, he hadn’t had much of a love or sex life since he kissed the woman who was always around dead prostitutes.
“I am lucky to live near the grove. The fruits are delicious.” He finally stepped closer to her. “I’ve said that already, haven’t I?” The smile was a little sheepish, but there all the same.
----
A smile played on Ivy’s lips.
“Yes, you have. Perhaps you could get me some? I would like to try the fruit.”
It was a simple test of how well the pheromone manipulation had worked. She always liked to start small and then work up to the bigger requests.