Quest For Knowledge

Summary:
November 16, 2014: Elijah Snow meets Catwoman and Poison Ivy.

The Narrows

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This section of the Narrows is cornered off by big vines; the thick stumps reaching high and tall above houses and warehouses that threaten to take the skies. Even though there seems to be no entry, sections of greenery appear to have a certain give to allow flexibility at the owners expense. At night, everything seems to boom, where most drug dealers and gang bangers and ne'er do'ers in the Narrows would roam the streets, this part seems rightfully peaceful, due to the sentries that may pop out at any given moment to assault those who threaten to penetrate Ivy's home.

Why.. just last week, men with machine guns tried to cut and hurt her vines.. instead.. she cut and hurt them and turned them into zombies who burst little figs and leaflets from their pours and slowly dragged feet all around the domed structure.

This is where she sleeps, most would typically find her in a place that was green already and needed care.. no. This was built from the ground up and this section of the city seemed better for it. Ask Mrs. Cobbs how her lawn is doing.

Thank you, Gotham.

Elijah Snow had prepared before he came to investigate. He's heard tell of the jungle's owner, of her ferocity and her defenders alike. He could, of course, simply freeze such threats, withering the green away beneath the chill of his power. Could kill the entire jungle that way, should he see fit. But he didn't come to wage war or make enemies. He came to learn, to discover, to explore. He came as a scientist and archaeologist, not a vigilante.

And so, he visited first a small shop in Gotham's Chinatown, unseen by most because they don't know where or how to look for it. Some of those alleyways, after all, don't have ends, only beginnings, corners, and always, always doors. The door in question brought him to a woman named Wing Fen. He brought her tribue, the bones of birds sewn together to make a necklace of exquisite delicacy. In return, they shared tea, a tea of friendship. Through it, Snow is now suffused with herbs, herbs that mark him as a friend of the Green, as one given protection by the Great Tree's servants.

So, when Ivy's guardians discover him, they simply let him pass, as if he were one of them. Which doesn't mean they don't tell her about him. They just don't kill him outright.

The gall of the woman; to have a throne sitting in this mass of greenery was expected. There were more sentries lingering about than not, though those were experiments created from the small trees that.. without her help would have never sprouted from the ground. And she loved her little spriggans made of lillies, those little life-like beings tickled her fancy so much that they floated around of their own free will, dancing within the moonlight. To her? This place was like heaven..

Even the grass sings their praises of her arrival, she breathed life into them where there was none left.

So, when a visitor broaches her defenses? There was a tiny cause for alarm, but she did not move away from the throne made of thorns, if anyone was /that/ clever enough to breach her tiny spot of sanctuary, bold enough to approach her to have words.. they deserved to have her ear and then after?

Die a horrible fucking death.

You just don't walk your way into someones house. You just do /not/ do that.

Mutherfuckers get shot for less. How fucking dare you?! You deserve every lash of the fuck..

Right. Okay. Yes. Ahem. She was watching him though. Two fingers to the eyes style.
Elijah Snow lets the vines spread out before him, making not so much a path as a hallway, the lingering thorns and mantraps around him constant reminds of the painful death that could await him. Elijah Snow has faced many painful deaths. He always somehow just manages to escape. One might think it was fate, if they believed in such things.

Elijah wasn't really sure himself.

His normally opalescent skin is run through with veins of green, like a skein of veins beneath parchment, the green bleeding into his eyes as Wing Fen's tea works its subtle, Green magick upon him.

Finally, he finds himself in the throne room, his white suit a shock against the vitality of the world around him. Even the air around him is, as always , slightly chilled. You can see his breath in the air as he speaks, "Queen of Ivy, my name is Elijah Snow. I haven't come to bury Caesar, but to praise her. You have my word. I would not make myself an enemy of the Green, for I know too well its power."

Venus' hiss at him as he passes by, vines curl and twine in agitation due to the unwelcomed visitor and the impending fight that may or may not happen. She was on edge from the intrustion, and whatever she feels, they feel, vice versa. A snake eating it's own tail.

She sits upright from her relaxed position upon the throne, green suede gloves tapping against the wrought and purposely dried vines beneath her fingers. Eyes narrowing at the appearance of the man.. and the fog that seemingly comes from his breath.

She listens to his words, still wary, but a smile was placed upon her lips and vanished within the same breath all the same. "So you come to make an offering then?"

The wooden sentrys that guard her come to a stand still; each perched upon either side of her, the bulk of their trunks mimicking the green that traces paths to their supposed faces which light their eyes.

A ripple of darkness, a slinking shadow through the vies as the rooftop access is what she utilized, but a known creature amongst the greenery here. In fact it is treated much like a home befitting any jungle cat. The whisper of light through the leaves dances spotted shadows upon green that has liquid material of synthetic attire pouring over its bulky spanse. Enough to hold that weight and limber form that slides doen along its length, ichorous and acrobatic, though when she drops down behind Snow in his stand before the throne in this created 'fortress' it remains silent - weightless and trained.

Goggle covered eyes flick from their own green hue of night vision to clear, showing those emerald eyes behind, a snapping assessment from toe to head and back again. When she moves, it gives the man a berth, though the side facing away from him is oddly held /close/, nestled there.

"The white does not match the decor." Her voice purrs forth, softer then normal, but something in the depths of it holds guarded.

Elijah Snow has his own training, remaining stoic as the Catwoman makes herself known. True, she hid from him almost entirely until the last moment, but an excellent pokerface is one of the first lessons Holmes taught him all those years ago. Other people can be read by their expressions, the crinkle of their eyes, the twitch of a lip, the bead of sweat. To play the Great Game, one must learn to extinguish such telltales.

"Lucky for the feng shuei that I won't be a permanent addition, then," he says with a nod to the graceful thief. He knows of her as well, of course. Snow always does his research, some would say to the extreme. He's never regretted it.

"Say a gift, rather," he says, turning his attention back to Ivy. "While you are, no doubt, a queen, you are not mine, so it wouldn't be proper to make an offering. A peace offering as apology for my intrusion, however, seems entirely apt," he says. He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a small silver case, the size of one that normally would hold cigarettes. He holds it off to the side, that Catwoman might snatch it from his hand, "Seeds. Very special seeds," he says.

Invisible eyes scan the rooftops, the feel of added weight upon their bones told tales of Catwoman's entry. A welcomed guest among the green. As long as she waters them, of course. Ivy herself does not draw her eyes to the sky, they remain upon the man warily and once Catwoman reaches ground? Tis when she stands.

All in the name of defense of the green and friend should he choose to strike.

"Do you think this place needs more white?" She had an arsenal of tulips that would look beautiful amongst the bed of roses where she sleeps. Not that she'll tell them that, of course. It should be known.

She descends the steps, heels making her taller than what she already is, hands relaxed at her side for this is her house, and no one.. /no one/ will make her tense in her humble abode.

"You come bearing seeds." She says blandly. One would think she wasn't impressed. But then the mood shifts almost immediately as gloved hands lift to clasp in front of her, toe of her heels planted downward into the ground with a side-twist that is only seen in the movies from someone who is filled with joy.

And she really is!

"Lemme see!"

Bi-polar much?

"Feng Shuei has ~nothing~ to do with it…" As Ivy states just /how/ she can make matches arise that one hand rises, wrist cocks and palm aims heavenward. A wordless 'see?'. Point made.

When the man in white holds the silver case out in her direction, oh it gets her attention, but she doesn't touch it. Oh hell no. Then she'll have to water them, and she will take no more unspoken oaths that get her strung up in ways she does not find in /play/.

But also she keeps what is clutched at her side tucked close, but when her attention towards the man in white has her stretching -just- so to have a peek that mewling noise omits.

No secrets, no shame in the life form she harbors and hides, but her stance shifts quickly from that serous stride to one of rigidity.
Elijah Snow remains still until Ivy approaches, extending his hand until the case is within her reach. It's cool to the touch, of course, just like the man himself, his ice blue eyes sparkling like snowflakes fall through the pupils, "A flower. I'm afraid it's lacking a Latinate designation, as no mundane scientist of which I know has encountered it. In the land of Skartaris, where I found it, they called it the Dream Orchid. Supposedly, inhaling from the flower gave one dreams as fragrant and beautiful as the flower itself. Of course, if one didn't care properly for the rose, well…inhaling of its decay was said to be precarious for the sanity."

He tilts his arm slightly, palm upward and, if leaned into, will scratch a feline chin. Human or furred.

Who is this Feng Shuei and what did it have to do with color? Ah well, it was a question that would be posed for another day. The soft mewling noise gets her attention first, along with a wrinkle of her nose but.. that poise she created is soon dropped in favor for closing in on the two with purposeful strides and a careful prick of the case from his fingers. Even though she wears gloves and can control that dastardly ability, she remains ever mindful of touching others. And kittens.

"You do realize what gem you are offering to me now, don't you?" She purrs, fingers wrapping around the case but not opening just yet. There was a need, a temptation, but not now. For now, her own dreams were brought to the foreground, what she could possibly do with a flower, a flower so subtle yet powerful in it's own right. And beautiful. Even when wilted.

Catwoman pauses, the gesture of upheld hand from Elijah was left hanging, rather empty. She looked at the hand, then him, then the hand and tucked that small form further away as his speech kept going on about what he brought to Ivy, though as she heads back to an arching vine beside her throne she speaks in a low dulcet tenor, despite it's past barb.

"Now /there/ is a flower I can forget to water…In just the right house." The smile that curls on the edges of Catwoman's lips does not fit, but makes sense when she lifts her arm while ascending that sweeping arched vine and holds the tiny body of a curled up ball of fur. A deep burnt orange hue, huge gold eyes, black stripes just over the top of each eye. Nothing that ever called the United States home. (If anyone would know possibly, its a Borneo Bay Kitten).

"Yes, that Galante asshole has nightmares coming for months for what he did…" Sickening really, but fitting in how her hand cradles the kitten and those silver claws hook up and around it protectively.

Elijah Snow responds to Ivy first, his hands going into the pockets of his jacket now as Catwoman strolls away and he's handed over his bounty. He'd like a cigarette, but he isn't particularly sure how Ivy would respond to such, and he's not interested in tempting fate. "Of course. Knowledge is my stock in trade, Dr. Isley." he says. "Which is why I wanted to meet you. I can read, certainly. Reports, case files. Assessments. Diagnoses. But you never know someone until you meet them, not really. And I find you somewhat fascinating. An agent of the Green in Gotham City, the dankest, most despairing city in America. The very ground itself cursed with blood and murder at its very foundation. And yet, here you stand."

Eyes flick over to Selina, "And with friends, as well, skilled friends with reputations of their own. A good thing to have, in a city where the rooftops grow increasingly crowded."

Ivy watches Catwoman curiously, her mind continuously working. Even though there was a touch of insanity there, she had the mind to offer something in private to allieviate Selina of her current woes. The life of Gallante, just for kicks and giggles, no debt owed. Something that she just may take upon herself and not tell the woman that she had done so.

"It shall be yours then." She speaks to the woman, finally relenting urge and need to slip closer to the woman and cat, bending just enough to become eye level with the feline to offer a light smile in place of a pet. She appreciated the kittens, of course. They were gentle, much like her plants. Ferocious all the same.

Once Mr. Snow speaks, however, her attention was shattered. On hand, she should probably be insulted. The other? Obviously flattered. She just didn't know how to take nor feel about his words; he knew so much about her and Selina and they little about him. Dinner, possibly, may have been on the menu for the three with the latter of the species strung up.. horrified..

"Every place deserves a touch of the green, no matter how dark, dank.. life still flows within this city even though a favorable few needs removing. And unlike the Bat…" She was willing to step up to the plate. She was no hero, that was for certain. She'd kill a man for pissing on a bed of flowers.

"Just starting with this corner, in the place where possibly the bat may not go, may not touch, the people here who are ignored and children who are terrified to leave there homes. A little at a time.. all life in this corner.." She stops herself, then flourishes a smile. "Be appreciative of my efforts to restore life and beauty to this side of the city."

She draws the case close to the darkest of hearts she has, pressed against and listened to. To connect. To feel. To give it a small hint of air that she could provide; the first spots of nuture it'll feel during it's growth, and the death of one which would be carefully handed to her friend upon a silver platter. Yes. This visitor is welcome.

"Thank you for the gift."

Catwoman stretches out upon that dangling limb, one leg wraps around the vine, tugging it taut lightly to balance and support her weight while the other hangs over the side, swinging just above the ground but very much at ease and at home, that small beast perched upon it to stand there with all four legs spread out - bracing itself as it unsuredly walks forward, testing its natural habitat, but unknowing of it.

Frown.

Though when Ivy leans in, watches and speaks her gaze follows, not curious, rather knowing of the shared language, that smile becoming cheshire in a brief glimmer of ivories just before she looks back upon the man in White.

Any normal day in East End she would say he knows too much and find out how by stringing him up side down over the bay with a live wire. But this is not East End. Ivy can handle her own and while she watches the exchange between the two warily those googles flicker and change colors, a brief lingering before they settle back to normal, that kitten having wobbled its way to nestle back in the crook of her arm.

C'est, she's sleeping here it seems.

Pillow leaf fights?

Elijah Snow keeps his expression cool, "I did not offer it for thanks, but because it was deserved. And because you were the best caretaker. I believe in the free exchange of information, secrets. The hidden world deserves light, except where it wants its own shadow. In fact, at Planetary, the group that I founded, we have a motto: Keeping The World Strange. I have no desire for a mundane world, regimented by order. Chaos has its place. There should always be green in dark places, just as there should always be shadows in lush forests."

He can tell there's communication between the two women, but that's their business. He's curious, of course, but he's always curious, and he hardly imagines they're conveying the deep secrets of the universe between them. Life and death, perhaps, but not his. Not today.

"Someday, perhaps, I may endeavor to cleanse the curse on this land. Blood-soaked as it is, and rich in its own way, the poison of dark magick has stained the streets of Gotham for too long. And its swamps and forests, as well, if the fetid unlife which Monday sometimes births from its depths is any measure."

It was almost as if it were automatic. The pieces fit where Selina lay, vines curling and wrapping around her and the kitten protectively as the woman slowly falls asleep. It would anchor her, bringing her out of view, blanketing her in warmth to shield from the cold nights that Gotham has potential to provide. It was not a trap for the woman, just support. She could leave when she was ready and the vines would part their ways should she choose not to take the roof.

With that done; Ivy turns away from Mr. Snow, gloved hand lifting to beckon him hither with a finger as she walks, the way of her hips potentially hypnotizing to a younger sort of man, for the way the suede clings to her form like a second skin induces the curves that are all too natural to Pamela.

The sentry's were dismissed at her approach, making themselves scarce to deal and possibly play with the spriggans as she ascends the steps to her throne, to sit.. to relax.. to listen and ponder his words. "Planetary." She murmurs cooly, her head tilted to rest fingers upon her chin and jaw, silver case tumbled with the other hand as eyes grow ever so vacant. "Planetary.." She says yet again, brows lowering and lips purckering and smacking briefly. "I have not heard of such a group. Perhaps, there is a reason for this."

It was strange, but Ivy was on the same page as a man, strange indeed. "I tell you what you ask, and you give me little gifts such as this?" The case was waved then, and kept.

Elijah Snow may not be hypnotized, immobilized, in the way that a younger mortal might be. That isn't quite the same as being immune to the allure. That he can enjoy with discretion is a mark of his class and the discipline of his training as a disinterested observer. Where many a mortal man might find himself tumbling to his knees with an eagerness to worship, Snow merely follows that sway until she faces him again.

"In essence. Planetary doesn't hide itself, but, like many things in the world, some people simply choose not to see it. And others deliberately obfuscate. But yes. My interest is in knowledge, its preservation, its dispersion. I am an archaeologist, a scientist, a detective. While I have a criminalist's training, I care about solving mysteries, not catching perpetrators. Morality is a facile thing, I find, and usually best left to children. Punishment and reward and all that."

"And your word, you can be held to that?" Why Ivy would ask him of this was telling. She was seriously considering divulging the secrets of her anatomy, and then some. The way plants could grow and bloom, how she speaks to them, how they listen to her, so on and so forth. For more gifts such as these? She would do almost anything.

But she won't do /that/.

Whatever /that/ was.

"Consider me curious. Consider me curious indeed. And if you are to make such an offer to trade information and the like, I would have you know that there are boundaries that you will never, ever cross. No matter your intentions, no matter the need for justice, no matter the urge or want."
Elijah Snow remains stoic, his hands still in the pockets of his jacket. His voice, though, is surprisingly soft, almost gentle. In his experience, those with such firm lines usually put them up because someone else has shown them no respect in the past. He's read the reports, yes, but mere typeface never conveys real truth. It's just a report, a set of facts. That's why he always goes to the source, when he can.

"Dr. Isley, I am a man of a different age. Some call me the Ghost of the 20th Century. I won't claim that men then were any better than men now. They weren't. Men shall ever be a fickle and monstrous creature, a small down from the noble apes which he can claim as kin."

"Truth is my only interest. That is why I only speak truth. Not out of absurd senses of honor or archaic codes of chivalry. Because lies are boring. Because lies only delay, hide, obfuscate. I wish to uncover and illuminate. You may be assured, I shall respect whatever boundaries you lay forth."
[OOC] Elijah Snow says, "See, now you're making me want to make a slinky villainess to be part of Ivy's posse. :)"

"The Ghost of the 20th Century." Blank stare inducing.

Something she would have to research later.

She does listen to him though, giving him enough respect to not interject, her features softening but boundaries most be spoken and said. For once, Ivy seemed like a normal woman, laying out terms and conditions due to business contract. It was just that simple. There was nothing irrational, and perhaps, it was due to the tone that he had taken with her and the clear respect he had shown.

There was no need to show out.

"And you shall have it."

She allows the silence to grow, her face now locked in a modicum of seriousness. "As for my demands. That one is off limits." She glances up towards Catwoman. "Unless you approach her yourself, she is off limits. I will not discuss her with you, nor with anyone. Our secrets are ours alone, and I'm sure she will require the same of you." She pauses. "Anything I say to you shall remain in between us, unless circumstances that I am made aware of deem otherwise. Third? Do not touch me. If you want to get my attention, say my name."

She smiles a little, then it fades. "For your protection only."
Elijah Snow listens carefully, making sure to parse the words as they're given. Wording, after all, is so important, especially in spoken contracts such as this. Not that he intends to search for wiggle room or loopholes. But one should always be aware they exist, even if you have no intention of making use of them yourself.

"Insofar as I'm concerned, she's under your protection. I will not interfere with her nor bother her. And, naturally, my discretion is absolute. Sealed lips. I do seek out things for purposes of publication, but this is more a matter of my own personal curiosity. Especially since understanding of you seems so confused and mixed. Rarely has any figure received such equal measures of adulation and hatred. Although, of course, the sources of both speak much."

He makes no remark about the protection. He knows that he needs none such, but saying as much would seem a threat.

"Then we have a deal." Ivy states, leaning forward upon her throne to offer a gloved hand to seal the deal.


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