comfypillow: (pic#17776399)
𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑦. ([personal profile] comfypillow) wrote in [community profile] peacockstop 2025-05-28 04:06 pm (UTC)

[ As if on comical cue, the voices in the distance travel through once again:

Oh, Deb, what’s that thing you’ve been carrying this whole time but I’m conveniently only noticing now? A net launcher? Good idea! Any of the actors that give us trouble can be caught in that projectile net and forcibly dragged back to the filming location. There have been a few stubborn ones that we haven’t brought back yet, huh? Hahaha! Also, I never noticed how muscular you are before? You wanna grab drinks after this?

Quincy is silent for a moment before turning his gaze back up to the old bird. ]


It sounds like they’re better prepared this time.

[ Since he does not see troublesome illusions and traps, Quincy is emboldened by Getian’s conjecture, continuing along the forest path without hesitation. It doesn’t mean that there aren’t dangers—he expects that this ecosystem is delicate and strange—but the matter of evading their would-be captors is simpler without having to navigate tricks. Whatever lies beyond the thicket can be handled when they get there.

What he doesn’t expect to find is an innocuous field of flowers. They’re as thick as a quilt with green peppered between their cottony petals in soft shades of purple and pink. Extremely alluring, especially to a man that lives in a state of perpetual tiredness; they look like the perfect place to snuggle up and doze off into some sweet dreams. Their pollen, likewise thick as cotton, floats in the breeze and clings to the trees on the border of the field. Birds chirp happily, making their nests with both petals and pollen. By all accounts, it’s extremely peaceful and welcoming.

Quincy is deeply familiar with plants. However, these are brand new to his eyes—which, along with the fact that there is no other way through than to go straight—draws him into the sea of snuggleblossoms. He pauses before turning his attention back to the bird hovering overhead, ]


Are you familiar with these flowers?

[ As he stands solid a tree himself, pollen builds on his shoulders and catches in his wavy blonde hair. He brushes it away from his bangs and studies his fingers, rubbing the strange texture of the pollen between his thumb and middle finger. Very strange. It clings too much, as if prepared to pollinate whatever it touches. ]

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