threaten the ones on me,” said Jasper.
“You look so cute!”
Jasper groaned. “My mission in life.”
I glanced at Trina’s head. Huge red, orange, and blue flowers wound through her curly hair. She looked like spectacular topiary, or maybe the drowned Ophelia floating downstream with her herbs around her. Her half-lidded eyes looked dreaming and drowsy.
“Check Trina, Beryl,” I said.
Beryl knelt in front of Trina. “You okay?” she asked.
Pollen dusted Trina’s lips. She licked them. “I don’t understand the symbolism of this dream,” she murmured, “but it tastes good.” Her eyes closed all the way. Her mouth smiled. Faint snores came from her nose.
Beryl looked up at me, a question in her eyes.
I shrugged. In a way. Kind of hampered by plant arms around my shoulders.
Beryl turned to Jasper. She held the clippers toward the branches that snaked around him. The branches shivered but stayed where they were. Her mouth firmed. She opened the clippers and placed them around a tendril. She closed her eyes and the clippers. Snip! The tendril dropped to the ground.
The whole plant shivered. I felt like a salt shaker above a bad steak.
“If you don’t let them go,” Beryl told the plant, “I’ll cut right above the root.”
Tendrils shot out and curled around her wrists. “Yiiiiii!” she yelled.
Another branch shot out and knocked the clippers out of her hand. The plant took its time wrapping around her. Not the slow deliberation of real plant time, but somehow leisurely, artfully, a flower at each of her joints, a belt of flowers at her waist, a corona of flowers around her face all blooming at once, then leaning over to lay stripes of pollen across her cheeks and down her front.
For a while we stood there as Beryl’s bush grew denser around the three of us. It seemed satisfied with its hold on Trina and left her face alone. It left all our faces alone aside from dusting them with sizzling pollen, but it seemed to view the rest of our bodies as nice trellis space. As flowers bloomed and wilted a few inches from my nose, I figured out that each color had a different perfume.
“Well, okay,” Jasper said eventually. “Thanks for this instructive experience in what it’s like to be part of the landscape. We get it. Could you let us go now?”
A flower brushed pollen across his nose.
“Okay, how about you attack Flint too?”
Flint sat nearby. He had eaten about six pieces of cake. I wondered when the cake’s curse would kick in, and how it would manifest. Would he get sick to his stomach? Throw up all night? Change color?
“Okay, wait. I’ve been thinking about this. I finally figured it out!” Flint smiled and grabbed the shoebox. “I know what it wants.” He went past Beryl’s plant and flopped down on his knees, pulled colors out of the box and started sketching.
“Oh, God,” Jasper muttered.
“You said you could ward against curses,” I said. I felt tired. It had been a long day. I relaxed in the embrace of the plant, and it was strong enough to support me.
He smiled. “Sure. Kind of helps to know what form the curse will take ahead of time, though.”
“Chalk.”
“Actually, that part is great. I hope Trina’s okay. I can’t tell if that’s really her spirit inside my picture. I hope not.”
“What else could it be?”
“My idea of her spirit?”
“Wish I hadn’t drawn such big flowers,” Beryl said. A flower grew right in front of her face, eclipsing her. “Oh, well,” she muttered, muffled. She
sneezed.
“You can’t ward against curses after they’re cast?” I asked Jasper.
Not that I know of. I could cast spells of my own, maybe burn the whole plant to the ground, but I keep Doping it will disappear on its own.”
“That would sure be nice.” I would love to know that my curses had a short shelf life.
“It’s so lively and happy.” He frowned. “A curse mixed with a blessing. I hate to hurt it.”
“There,” Flint said.
“You look so cute!”
Jasper groaned. “My mission in life.”
I glanced at Trina’s head. Huge red, orange, and blue flowers wound through her curly hair. She looked like spectacular topiary, or maybe the drowned Ophelia floating downstream with her herbs around her. Her half-lidded eyes looked dreaming and drowsy.
“Check Trina, Beryl,” I said.
Beryl knelt in front of Trina. “You okay?” she asked.
Pollen dusted Trina’s lips. She licked them. “I don’t understand the symbolism of this dream,” she murmured, “but it tastes good.” Her eyes closed all the way. Her mouth smiled. Faint snores came from her nose.
Beryl looked up at me, a question in her eyes.
I shrugged. In a way. Kind of hampered by plant arms around my shoulders.
Beryl turned to Jasper. She held the clippers toward the branches that snaked around him. The branches shivered but stayed where they were. Her mouth firmed. She opened the clippers and placed them around a tendril. She closed her eyes and the clippers. Snip! The tendril dropped to the ground.
The whole plant shivered. I felt like a salt shaker above a bad steak.
“If you don’t let them go,” Beryl told the plant, “I’ll cut right above the root.”
Tendrils shot out and curled around her wrists. “Yiiiiii!” she yelled.
Another branch shot out and knocked the clippers out of her hand. The plant took its time wrapping around her. Not the slow deliberation of real plant time, but somehow leisurely, artfully, a flower at each of her joints, a belt of flowers at her waist, a corona of flowers around her face all blooming at once, then leaning over to lay stripes of pollen across her cheeks and down her front.
For a while we stood there as Beryl’s bush grew denser around the three of us. It seemed satisfied with its hold on Trina and left her face alone. It left all our faces alone aside from dusting them with sizzling pollen, but it seemed to view the rest of our bodies as nice trellis space. As flowers bloomed and wilted a few inches from my nose, I figured out that each color had a different perfume.
“Well, okay,” Jasper said eventually. “Thanks for this instructive experience in what it’s like to be part of the landscape. We get it. Could you let us go now?”
A flower brushed pollen across his nose.
“Okay, how about you attack Flint too?”
Flint sat nearby. He had eaten about six pieces of cake. I wondered when the cake’s curse would kick in, and how it would manifest. Would he get sick to his stomach? Throw up all night? Change color?
“Okay, wait. I’ve been thinking about this. I finally figured it out!” Flint smiled and grabbed the shoebox. “I know what it wants.” He went past Beryl’s plant and flopped down on his knees, pulled colors out of the box and started sketching.
“Oh, God,” Jasper muttered.
“You said you could ward against curses,” I said. I felt tired. It had been a long day. I relaxed in the embrace of the plant, and it was strong enough to support me.
He smiled. “Sure. Kind of helps to know what form the curse will take ahead of time, though.”
“Chalk.”
“Actually, that part is great. I hope Trina’s okay. I can’t tell if that’s really her spirit inside my picture. I hope not.”
“What else could it be?”
“My idea of her spirit?”
“Wish I hadn’t drawn such big flowers,” Beryl said. A flower grew right in front of her face, eclipsing her. “Oh, well,” she muttered, muffled. She
sneezed.
“You can’t ward against curses after they’re cast?” I asked Jasper.
Not that I know of. I could cast spells of my own, maybe burn the whole plant to the ground, but I keep Doping it will disappear on its own.”
“That would sure be nice.” I would love to know that my curses had a short shelf life.
“It’s so lively and happy.” He frowned. “A curse mixed with a blessing. I hate to hurt it.”
“There,” Flint said.
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