1683/Tiptoe Through the Tulips...or Die!

Tiptoe Through the Tulips...or Die!
Date of Scene:	27 July 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Poison Ivy, Gambit

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Poison Ivy has posed:
This part of the park would be... different, somehow. It always had a lot of trees - was always a more wooded area. But people no doubt were commenting a bit on the way this part of the park was looking... wild, lately.

There hadn't been any reason to call the police just yet - nothing suspicious except the groundskeepers employed by the city weren't quite doing their job - not doing their job and allowing vines to link tree to tree, allowing flowers to sprout up wild around the trunks of the trees. And the grass to grow a little longer.

The observant may notice a groundskeepers uniform and tools, propped up behind a stump.

And no groundskeeper.

Further inside, the woods would feel more warm - hotter, perhaps, than the world outside, certainly a little muggier. And devoid of things like homeless or otherwise. Why would Gambit enter? Would he enter?

Perhaps he wouldn't, at all.

Gambit has posed:
Gambits sense of adventure is rivalled only by his willingness to do something brazen and foolish. Therefore, the cajun has come on his own to explore Gotham a bit, as the thief has done many times before, but this time a few words heard of a passing conversation planted the seed of curiosity. This is what has led Remy to the park and yet he pauses, spotting the clothes of a groundskeeper and equipment. Bending down and examining them for a moment, rubbing the sleeve of the shirt between his thumb and finger before standing slowly and parting the vines and stepping into the cove.

"'Allo?" Remy asks loud enough to be heard across the clearing, his accent thick and concerned.

Poison Ivy has posed:
It wouldn't be answered. But deeper, deeper into the grove - not the clearing, but into the woods themselves - his eyes might catch sight of a pair of sheers. And past that, a shoe, with markings on the ground suggesting that someone was dragged. Deeper. Deeper into the woods.

But oh, the flowers.

Vines grow thicker and more interesting - and the air becomes more humid and oppressive the deeper one goes into the little patch of wood. And on those vines there sprout... tulips?

Some were just blossoms in the cup shape of the tulip, but some yet were branching off of the vines proper, like needles on a pine leaf. And thick along the ground were the same - except for a path inbetween the erstwhile, chaotic field of flowers, an almost pink haze to the air proper.

Gambit has posed:
"Is dere a mutant out dere?" Remy asks, as tuplips growing from a vine, that's not natural.

Remy's getting an Evil Dead, Friday the 13th, kind of vibe from the woods, and the clues towards a more sinister event not long ago. But his feet carry him forward.

Grateful he didn't wear his duster today, the warmth of the summer was enough to disuade him from his X-men attire, while it's fortunate in this instance, as getting caught and snagged ever other step would have slowed him down eminsely. Remy continues to venture deeper, following the path when his hand dives into a pocket, and palms three playing cards, just in case when he suddenly sneezes, three times in rapid succession.

Poison Ivy has posed:
Pamela Isley - no - Poison Ivy, had been using a tent out in these woods - donated ever so kindly by someone who was squatting in the area, who mysteriously vanished afterwards. It was so... difficult doing things without a lab, but there were... advantages to a tent in the middle of the park.

For one, no one bothered her, generally. And in Gotham's parks - people tended to disappear on a regular basis. It would hardly be enough of a blip on law enforcement's radar - much less that of the Bat.

Which suited Ivy fine.

And what she was used to were interruptions. Vines twisted around the neck of a man off to the side of her little clearing, the tulip blossom on the end of the vine releasing a more concentrated pinkish mist - and the man seemed to be in a stupor of sorts. He was likely the missing groundskeeper. As he was barechested - thankfully wearing his slacks still, and had just one shoe on. Eyes fluttering, he lay with head against the roots of one of the great trees, just breathing in the emissions from the tulip constantly.

Ivy's eyes narrow, at the sound echoing through the trees. Mutants. She knew of those.

And if this man was seeking one, well... she might be able to head him off, before he got to the tent. He would not see the man if he didn't get to the tent, after all. And that might raise... questions.

Tulips made up Ivy's 'dress', as well, at the moment. A big, fat tulip petal covering her bust, and a 'chain mail' of little tulip petals touching each other make up a one-piece swimsuit of sorts around her. Her red hair blossomed - not with the pinkish blossoms of the tulips that decorated the area, but with a rainbow of blues, blacks and reds, sticking out of her voluminous hair at different points.

Vines wrapped around her feet made boots - but even they had sprouts.

Ivy moves to intercept Remy outside of her clearing - stepping from behind a tree within his field of vision. "No mutants here," she says, her voice low, playful. Eyes of an unnatural green flicker up and down Remy's form, before lighting on his unnatural eyes. "...are there mutants there?" she asks, bringing up a hand to point towards him with a lazy flick of her wrist.

Gambit has posed:
"Ah t'ought dat much would be obvious." Remy says, to the woman as she appears from behind a tree and his eyes soften as he looks at her and her rather peculiar dress.

The mutant continues to step forwards towards Ivy, his hand brushing against the trunk of a tree, feeling the bark with his fingertips as he passes and his feet crunch atop the underbrush as he approaches.

"So if you're not a mutant, what are ya? Cause you certainly look like one o' us."

Poison Ivy has posed:
Eyes flicker from Gambit's eyes to his hand, and narrow slightly as his hand scratches the bark of the tree. Her eyes return back to Gambit's face. For a long moment, the woman considers him - and in those moments, Gambit /might/ notice some things about her. The way that the edge of her lips lift up in a secret smile - the extra glimmer to her eyes, full of joy and... interest in the man in front of her. The silken shine to her hair, the way her plush green lips part and smile. There was a heat here, and it wasn't entirely the plants.

Unless, of course, the woman's 'natural' charms that were her pheromones were having no effect at all. Which was certainly within the realm of possibility.

Ivy narrows her eyes.

"I'm a force of nature - the voice of the plants here, and everywhere, hmm?" she says, as she seemingly makes a decision, her gauntlets - likewise made of vines, tightening around her wrist and forearms. "And what are you? Besides trespassing," she states.

On public land, that was a bold claim.

"What brings you into this little grove, my darling? Curiousity?"

Gambit has posed:
"Aye, curiosity. Ah heard some murmurin' o' some rat'er peculiar t'in's goin' on in dis here park." The cajun says his smirk, remains, not growing quite as large as Ivy's but it continues to dominate his features except his eyes those red and black orbs staring at the greenthumbed woman before him.

"Frankly Ah'm glad Ah'm as curious as dat." He starts a new thought, still approaching Ivy with slow, purposeful steps as he tests the distance between them with each movement, gauging her reactions and being slipped into her control via her pheromones. "Ot'erwise I would nevah 'ave seen anyone as, exotic as yourself mon cheri."

Poison Ivy has posed:
"Hmmn," says Ivy, her eyes narrowing at what Gambit says.

"Nothing unusual in this park - beyond me, of course. But I've heard the same things," says Ivy. "And you can... trust me," she says, her voice drawing low in a coo. "I haven't seen anything that would be worthwhile of police attention - otherwise they would be here, hmm?" says Ivy, lifting her hand and gesturing around here.

"It's just been a quiet time with me - and my flowers," she says, letting the smile slip wider. Ivy was toxic to the touch, if she chose to be. But her eyelids hood as Gambit draws nearer, into the cloud of gentleness that surrounded her. Superheroes tended to be more trouble than they were worth to keep around and use as minions, however, so Ivy was... discouraged.

"They say curiousity killed the cat - but they never talk about the cat that finds the kitten, isn't that right?" she says, tilting her head to the side, smiling a low, welcoming smile. "So, tell me about yourself. Starting with a name?" It was a coy little sound - but it had a hint of command in the back of her voice.

Gambit has posed:
Urged by some mental force, Remy mirrors Ivy's expressions as he gets closer and closer still. The pheromones acting as they will and pushing Remy to obey,

"Remy."

Says the mutant his hand in his pocket letting the cards go and slipping out as he disarms himself for the woman, even if she doesn't know it. Words fail the cajun, as he finally steps, inches away from Ivy, hesitating a moment.

Poison Ivy has posed:
Behind Remy, there might be noises - noises in the dark. Of vines tightening and loosening around trees - inching towards the legs and body of the mutant. But in front of him, Ivy's eyes - her smile, does not waver.

"Remy," she says, and her voice was like the voice of angels, smoother and musical in their cant - but filled with a certain divine power hidden in it. "What a strong name."

The cards falling draw her eyes down that way, and briefly cause her smile to flutter shut. She was looking for joker cards. For... reasons. Bringing up her hand, the vines track away from her hand proper, leaving just bare skin there, her eyes hooding a little longer. "I need you to go for now, Remy, but you'll come and visit me again, won't you?" she asks - moving to brush her bare skin against Remy's cheek. It would leave a pleasant tingle and a sensation of warmth if he let her touch him.

And, perhaps, leave him more susceptible to her charms.

Gambit has posed:
Remy's eyes close as she reaches up and touches him, his breath catching before his chest rises greatly when he finally breathes again. He lifts his fingerless gloved hand to hold hers momentarily, but he might have been too slow.

"O' course Ah'll come back..." When he realizes. "What should Ah call ya, mon cheri?"

Poison Ivy has posed:
Ivy was rarely one to avoid touch, after all.

A smile springs wider at the touch, her eyelashes fluttering at Remy as she seems taken - taken entirely and completely by him. And where he grasps her hand, there would be the heat again, that little tickle - it would feel like an almost rash, but not quite turn into a rash proper.

"Ivy, my dearest Remy," she says, tilting her head up, letting her eyelids close - her gaze almost hidden beneath her lashes. "Call me Ivy."

Gambit has posed:
Remy softly coos the word, letting it linger on his tongue as though it were the sweetest honey, the suns perfect warmth of spring.

"Ivy."

He'll use his hand to try and turn hers over and kiss the top of her fingers and knuckles with a soft, respectful kiss one would have given a princess millenia ago.

Poison Ivy has posed:
It was a poison - an intoxicating poison that would seep through that little kiss. But Ivy had deliberately left out that part of her name when introducing herself.

She had left out the Poison.

With a little laugh, she waits for that kiss to get halfway - before pulling her hand out of Gambit's own, lifting her chin to indicate the way he came. "So. Remy," she just about coos.

"Go, and return later - I have work to do, the most wonderful work - and perhaps you could help with it, hmm?" A beat, and her voice lowers a bit, with the promise of something that may worse than wrath - her disapproval if he remains.

Gambit has posed:
Remy lowers her hand as she takes hers back and looks over his shoulder as she motions back that direction and with a nod of his head, his lengthy curly hair bobing once as he does so, starts to walk back the way he came. Seems he'll return later, on his own time. Not hers as he doesn't ask for specifics.

Just as quickly as her territory was invaded, the intruder finds his way back out of the grove and back, to civilization.

Poison Ivy has posed:
But sadly, by the time he returned - the camp would be devastated, full of police and otherwise. And poor Ivy...

Locked away in the dark, in Arkham Asylum. What a cruel fate it was.