[It's the crystal's change of hue that Thomas notices first, alarming him in a way that makes him flick his eyes up and outward for signs of danger. And he hears, before he notices anything else, the sound of-- branches? Of foliage crawling and stretching; which makes no sense to him, and so he reaches out with his senses to understand just what the hell is going on.
All around them, the sense of life spider-webbing outwards. And in his hands, where that little plant lies, a heartbeat come to life.]
Shit.
[He's keen to put the plant down for now, but a little leaf brushes his hand, which turns into a little vine which wraps around his finger-
(In his head, a voice: Sunlight! And the feeling of something sapping just a fragment of his power via touch.)
And what happens next transpires so suddenly that he hardly has time to account for it.
The plant grows, and grows, and grows, its roots bursting out of its pot and lancing downwards, coiling and twisting and planting into the ground, pushing past ceramic tile. Branches and vines overflow. The thing shatters out of its pot, extending upward towards the ceiling in growth unlike anything Thomas has ever seen -- and he's seen plenty.]
Ah, fuck-
[He says, uselessly. Yeah, he's stepped back now, but this thing looks huge, twisting and flowering and strangely beautiful, but it is filling the whole room, keen to knock over every shelf and every item in this auction with abandon. And somewhere, twisting up in the trunk, is...
no subject
All around them, the sense of life spider-webbing outwards. And in his hands, where that little plant lies, a heartbeat come to life.]
Shit.
[He's keen to put the plant down for now, but a little leaf brushes his hand, which turns into a little vine which wraps around his finger-
(In his head, a voice: Sunlight! And the feeling of something sapping just a fragment of his power via touch.)
And what happens next transpires so suddenly that he hardly has time to account for it.
The plant grows, and grows, and grows, its roots bursting out of its pot and lancing downwards, coiling and twisting and planting into the ground, pushing past ceramic tile. Branches and vines overflow. The thing shatters out of its pot, extending upward towards the ceiling in growth unlike anything Thomas has ever seen -- and he's seen plenty.]
Ah, fuck-
[He says, uselessly. Yeah, he's stepped back now, but this thing looks huge, twisting and flowering and strangely beautiful, but it is filling the whole room, keen to knock over every shelf and every item in this auction with abandon. And somewhere, twisting up in the trunk, is...
The figure of a woman?
Goddamn it.]
It's a fucking dryad-
[Morgan, you bastard. You didn't tell him-]