The Garden of Good and Evil

January 04 2015: The Fox stops by the gardens to tend some plants. And meets someone doing rather the same.

Botanical Gardens

Gotham's Botanical Gardens are a refuge of pleasant greenery among the otherwise dark and gothic city. But they're also the province of one Poison Ivy.



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Kane Reynard - or rather, the Fox - doesn't come here much. Not because he doesn't like it. He does. The gardens here are peaceful and well kept and vibrant. No he doesn't come here much because of the memories. A couple of his friends came often to care for the plants that grew here. Their specialty was the path of the earth and the things that grow in it just as his was defending the circle and serving as it's might. Still, he couldn't stand to see all their efforts go to waste and so, a few times a month he comes down to care for the plants. Always at night, when the groundskeepers are asleep or away. And generally in costume just in case he's seen.

He has something of a green thumb. His unknown psychic gift grants vitality to living things around him and amplifies this effect when he consciously devotes effort to it, so the trees and flowers he waters and fertilizes and prunes generally tend to be healthy, vibrant things. All this in the memory of his friends.


And like friends, they all become a fading memory and leave. But the sanctuary of the gardens made sure that these plants stand the test of time. Employees filter in and out, young turn to old turn to gone, but still most of them stay, planted anew, tended to by an unknown stranger, and with a kiss or a touch of her.

She too, often frequent these parts. Away from her little tiny, jungle abode in the Narrows, purned and chipped down to a singular house due to stares and whispers that may find their way back to unwanted ears, to live a life in quiet insanity was her aim thus far.

Safe for the midnight meetings and sneaking, of course.

So it was no reason to guess as to why she'd be there; the Queen of the Green, ducked off in a silent corner to nurse an alpine whitlowgrass. It was on its last leg, tiny leaflets browning due to miss-manage and ill care from the Groundskeeper. For that particular one?

He was neither asleep or away.

He was dead.


Kane slips over toward that patch of grass. It's not usually in the area he tends. Actually the area he tends is just a small one, but he was thinking that it'd be a pity to let it go and that if his friends were here they certainly would. Kneeling down the leather hooded, masked figure isn't really looking out for trouble right now. "Mmmmm… too much water." He murmurs. Maybe the staff will ken to that at some point. RIght now…

He closes his eyes and murmurs quietly. The grass begins to glow green and grows a few inches before the glow fades. And when it does? The stems and leaves are green once more and even out of season there are little golden flower buds. Springs not too far off. Maybe they'll keep.

"There you go, little guy."


The sounds of movement catches her ear, being settled in as she was, it was hard for her to be seen, at that moment. Settled in for her was half laying upon the grass, her arm surrounding the whitlowgrass, whispering sweet nothing into the leaflets as she opens herself for reply.

But then it happens, that bright green light that sent her little friends squealing with delight, her head soon popping up, copse of red dangling along features which was soon brushed away with the flick of her hand.

They sung the man's praises to her almost immediately, stories of his visits, the way he made them feel, why their mood was always bright and shined..

But none of that mattered. Because Whitglow was dying. And that mutherfucker ignored her completely. Her being the plant.

"HEY!" She starts out, scrambling to her feet, days of absolute lonliness, without the touch of voice of another human would do that. She was about to lash out.

"You motherfucker.." Heels stalk towards the figure now, fingers curling into a fist, the plants surrounding him seemingly sway away as if he were a predator offering sweets.


The figure turns in surprise. Hood. Leather and cloth outfit. Fox themed masquerade mask all in black leather filigree. "Er… yes?" Kane actually doesn't have words right now. He's completely unused to seeing other people here at this hour of the night. That's the entire point of coming here this late. He's not sure who this could be. None of the employees stay this late… er… and come to think of it she's not dressed like an employee.


Of course she isn't. She's dressed like Poison Frickin Ivy! Green suede (due to the winter, and it was -in- I tell you, IN!) that fits her form to the frame, hugging each and accenting the best parts of her, boots that draw thigh high and loves to match. Her hair, it was something left to be desired, long due to many months, possibly years in Arkham. They don't offer beauty care there, and she hadn't felt like cutting it.

How dare you.

How dare you.

How dare you. The voices whisper.

"How dare you?" She asks aloud, gaze intent. No matter what he wore or how he was dressed, he was about to rue the day. "You spend more time caring for them but you ignore /her/?" Her arm is but a sweep, directing him to the whitlowglass, who seemingly bends just a little in shame that it shouldn't have been.

Her hand lifts, pointing a finger, which was aimed right at his chest to thump and push. "You waste your gifts on the healthy and do not tend to the sick! She's dying.."


Kane backs up a little. Uh oh. That profile looks familiar. Something on the news. And she seems angry that he- Wait…

"Her? The Whitlowglass over there?" His gaze tracks over. Ooooh. It was in bad shape. "Alright, easy, sorry. I hadn't seen it before. I don't get over that often. If you'll just… calm down I'll take care of her now. Poor thing."

Will that calm Ivy down? The Fox has no idea but he really hopes so. Partly because he'd rather not get into a fight here. It'd be murder on the plants and he just finished caring for them.


"Yes. Her!" Ivy was growing increasingly volatile by the moment, her fingers were clenching beneath gloves that begged to be pulled off just so she could touch him and a kill him in that order. But no. Even Ivy knows that to waste such precious gifts would be cruel. To waste him would be cruel. To not have him part of her plantlike collection? Even worse.

Those thoughts were pushed aside for the one deemed 'her baby'. The poor whitlowglass, her features stricken with a bit of pain as she back pedals towards the plant in order to kneel, lay, and curl an arm protectively around her. She was appeased at the promise to help, but wary and prepared should he not.


The masked figure kneels down, equally wary. He's more wary, though, of something along the lines of a punch or a knife or… well, anything'd be bad. "It's okay. I'll help. Promise." He looks over the brittle brown leaves with a the touch of someone familiar with caring for sick plants. And animals too. He's no vet, nor really a gardener but he's good at mending the injured in both plant and animal worlds. This one seems to have some kind of rot, and it's been a bit underfed. The soil's probably not quite right. That can be mended with some fertilizer later though. 'She' won't make it if he doesn't apply some magic.

And apply he does. He whispers quietly, celtic words flowing out in a hushed breath as the plant begins to glow green, reganing strength and vitality and even growing an inch or two before the glow fades. "There. She'll need fertilizer long term, but she'll be okay." See? He helped.


To punch him would be right. He needed to learn the errors of his ways, but first, came the whitlowglass. She draws her arm away enough to push herself upright, gloved fingers pressing against her lips to still whatever foul words that may interrupt the healing process. Her eyes were watering then, glistening with tears that do not fall, anticipation within her bones as her gaze dashes from the plant, to the masked man, and to the plant again. As he begins to chant, her eyes dash upright towards the greenery, examining the area and listening to the reactions.

It was magnificent, she had never seen plant life come into unison to sing their song unless it was because of her. It was truely something. One that draws out a little sniffle and finger brushes at her cheeks to wipe away fallen tears.

Once he was finished, she smiles, relieved, legs soon crossing indian style as she subtly rocks back and forth. "Yes. I see. Thank you." Then a beat. "Who are you." Deadpan.


"The Fox." Kane says. No he's not giving his real name. Not in this outfit. That kind of defeats the point of having an outfit. Plus the woman in front of him seems to be just a tad on the 'safer-behind-glass' side. "I come here a few nights out of the month. My friends used to take care of some of the plants here so…" He trails off and glancesdown at the now vital little whitlowglass.

"Anyway… who are you?" He suspects, but he's not an expert in Gotham's criminal underworld unless they're famous or supernatural.


And she was psuedo famous and psuedo supernatural. But if he was asking, she was debating on if she should tell him, which would be rather foolish. Look at how she reacted to the plants?

"Poison Ivy." She states faithfully, hands now clasping at her ankles, that rocking more prominent now and easy. She was not about to attack, not this one. Her plans involved something more elaborate, something a touch sinister, and equal parts stealth. "But what is in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.." She lifts a hand to wave it briefly. "Or something like that."


Which is an appropriate thing to quote, Poison Ivy not after all being her actual name. Still, this is a name he's heard and one he knows to be wary off. She's not attacking him though and he did just help out one of her favorite plants so he's hopeful that this won't have to end with that oak above him trying to strangle him. Because fighiting trees is not something he thinks he'd enjoy at all.

"Ah." He says, the wariness easy to detect. "Well, nice to meet you, Poison Ivy." Kind of. "You're here taking care of the plants too then?" As if that's a question.


"Yes. Something to that effect." Her head shakes, flinging red locks about her every where, then lifts her hand to move them away from her gaze.

"I talk to them. Keep them company. Water the ones that have been neglected throughout the day because the staff is either too incompetent or too short to care for them." Or dead. But that's a story for another day. "People rarely understand that, like us, we deserve companionship. Someone to talk to. Someone who would listen." A beat. "Or something, if that is their bag." She smiles, eyes dashing all around them now, she possibly looks rather insane with her rocking, head shaking, and talking.


The Fox agrees, though he figures he doesn't agree in the way she thinks. It's nice to find people like you. Though he's fairly sure he's not people like her even if he can mend plants and cares for them, oh, a fair bit more than your average Gothamite. "It's nice to have someone who understands you." He says carefully. Crazy Ivy is crazy and he turns his head slowly one way then the other to see what she's looking at.

Naturally he doesn't see anything.


"Isn't it?" She says, cheerfully. Though, the way he turns his head, has her head turning, not knowing that he was looking for what she originally looked at.

"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR." She snaps, her body lurching forward, hand smacking against the ground, her green eyes pressed hard to the mask, her lips nearly curled into a snarl. That sudden movement, if he could see it, would cause the blades of grass beneath them to bend, laying down like waves away from the spot where she sat and he kneeled or stood.


The Fox goes very, very still. He's not sure who'd come out on top in a fight but he is sure that sudden movements will precipitate one and he'd rather not just yet. "Just trying to see what you were looking at." He says slowly. "Wouldn't want to be seen by anyone curious right?" Deflect, deflect. Madness is sometimes associated with the supernatural but in this case Kane's fairly sure Ivy's just touched. Maybe something happened to her once, or maybe plants have replaced people for her. Either way…


There was tension there, felt by all. Building within the air as Ivy holds the mans stare, her gaze searching his entire body for a hint of movement that would suggest otherwise. She leans back now, still rocking, becoming restless, yet rocking, hands sinking into her hair to twirl.

"Oh." She murmurs out, her gaze falling into something akin to wonder. "You're right. You're very right. I like curious. Curiousity like children but I do. Not. Like. Curious." Confusing? But it had it's meaning. "But you. I like you. You're not curious. You. Do. As. You're. Told."


Now that's not the least bit disturbing. Not at aaaaal. Kane nods to Ivy all the while thinking 'you know, it'd be a good time to let the lady have her garden.' "I'm glad you approve. And I'm sorry I didn't see your plant earlier. Now, if I'm remembering right you usually don't like to be intruded on and I'm sure your babies here all want your attention."

He shifts his weight back very slightly, not to the point of getting up, but just to see how she reacts to it.


The shifting of his weight draws her to lurch forward again, this time both hands upon the ground, her eyes a menacing green, boring into his as if she were daring him to leave. "Move. And. You. Die."

The words were clear, cut and point blank. She wasn't really going to kill him, no. She just wanted to be the first to leave, she would hate to be followed to the narrows. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Only two people.. read.. three knew where she laid her head, and those three were at best 'friends' who kept their distance.

Often times, she much prefered it that way. While she was upon her knees to his kneel, she slowly rises up, her gaze remaining upon him as her fingers point at her eyes, then down towards him. "Stay." Because she was leaving.

Because she was going. She was leaving. And going. Her back was turned towards the entrance as she walked backwards, hand striking out as a vine hangs from the ceiling to drop her winter cloak into her palms, flourising as she stares towards him, still backing away. "Move and you're dead."


You know what would make Kane feel a lot better? A weapon in his hand. But that would only escalate the tension and… to be honest it looks like she's had enough of him now. So he just watches her calmly, not moving. At all. "Alright. I won't move Ivy." He says more calmly than he feels. Geeze, no wonder the Bat folks have their hands so full all the time.

That vine. That's… interesting. He'd heard there was a plant manipulator in Gotham but like others he'd wondered really how real could that be? As real as the Bats, it seems.


The cloak was attached to her at the neck, drawn about her body as her path stops at the entry way to the gardens. And then she smiles, mostly for the thoughts that plague her, her imagining the poor man suffering her presence with force to tend to her own plants as she stood by with a steel gaze. He was going to be her garden boy! Squee squee!

Those thoughts had her jumping.. jumping for joy, a joy that soon falls to disgust as she watches. He was watching her glee. She did not appreciate that. Not. At. All.

So with a sharp turn upon heels, she snaps her cloak yet again and leaves.

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