2709/Pixies and Monsters

Pixies and Monsters
Date of Scene:	05 October 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Swamp Thing, Pixie

---

Swamp Thing has posed:
    Somewhere, half the country away, in the depths of a swamp... a Thing also rises; but not from traditional sleep... from something... deeper.

His mind reaching out into the astral plane for days on end, he has been seeking out those who show an... aptitude for magic. Those who might help him understand, if not himself... then a small piece of the occult powers that seem to guide his purpose.

Who better to approach for answers than an 18-year old mutant? After all, one always knows where to find Xavier's students - at the Institute.

Rising from his seat on a falled branch, the roots he had set down rising back up into his shifting, mossy frame.

With a groan of effort and a clencing of his eyes, the Swamp Thing dissolves into the slick, muddy ground below him.

Off to the side of Megan's path, she likely hears a low, long groan of a voice, deep, low, a part of the earth itself.

"Megan... Gwynnn..." comes the guttural, slow tones, seemingly coming from a large, majestic tree on the grounds...

One that seems, upon closer inspection, to have... eyes?

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn gets up to start her day. 1pm. Yawning widely, stretching out, she grabs herself something to eat in hamburger form, and eating that, goes for a fly. In the air over the area of the institute grounds, she's going by some trees just off teh grounds now.

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn definitely stops where she's flying in mid-air when she hears that noise. In the air, she looks down, and slowly lowers herself down. Not on the ground yet, still careful. "Who's there?" she asks with a half full mouth.

Swamp Thing has posed:
Ugh... these humans and their consumption of animal flesh. If there's a force tying together all plant life on earth - the mystical Green that allows him to take the shape of a tree half the world away - he can only assume the same exists for animal life. He can only assume, this power is... displeased, with the wholesale slaughter of it's charges.

But this... is not Swamp Thing's concern. Certainly not now, when he doesn't even truly know himself yet.

"Who... is here....?" comes to slow, plodding reply, as the eyes on the tree continue to become more prominent - a wide mouth even forming out of the bark, moving in synch with the deep groans emanating forth. "I... don't know..."

The reply is tinged with sadness, an uncertainty and lack of confidence - a creature that truly does not know WHO or even WHAT it is...

"We... must talk... Please...?"

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn does eventually notice it's the tree that's speaking. "What...." she says, the words trailing off. Taking another bite of the burger, she backs off from the tree a little, and circles around it, finding that face that's forming. "Who are you? And what do you want to talk about?"

Swamp Thing has posed:
That question. Who is he. Once upon a time, he could have responded quickly and easily - sure that he was once a man.

Those days are over.

"I wish... I knew... child..." the talking Spruce groans, as one of the branches protruding from the tree seems to extend outwards towards Megan in a brief wave. If anyone else is watching this scene from the grounds, they're sure to be a bit... put-off. But maybe such occurrences are more common at this unusual school than one might think.

Regardless, the talking tree continues, bark creaking as it shifts to accommodate the words being spoken, "You... are magic?" he questions - something brought him to this school, and it wasn't the kids shooting lasers from their eyes. He has little interest in mutantkind, but this woman... she has something that makes her unique... a tie to the mystic that most of her fellow students lack.

"You are... special... Gwynn..." he says, using the last name - the Celtic nature of it oddly appealing to a creature who has spentmuch of the past few weeks meditating in the Scottish bogs and highlands. "I want to talk... about... you..."

He pauses, as if concentrating, before adding two final words, "Your... powers..."

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn is definitely put off by this whole thing. Still hovering, circling the tree a bit, watching, listening. "Yes, I have magic." She's very apprehenstive about this. Taking a slow, deep breath, she finishes off the hamburger quicklyb efore murmuring "What do you want to know? How do you not know who you are?"

Swamp Thing has posed:
"It's... complicated, child..." he mutters slowly, weird tree-eyes cast downward at the ground and closing, as if deep in thought - perhaps more accurately, a sense of... deep depression. A depressed tree? I'm sobbing as I type this.

"You may have... heard of... a botanist... biochemist... years ago, Dr... Alec Holland..."

"He... died... And I... was born..."

Whoa, that's not cryptic at all and TOTALLY explains the entire situation, great exposition there Mr. Thing. But that's apparently all he's offering at this time; he's spent countless hours, days in fact, pondering these exact questions. If he had answers, he might share them.

"You... this school..." he says, branch moving back to point towards the beautiful, stately Xavier Insitute off in the distance, leaves rustling as the tree moves it's limbs, "You are... learning, about your powers... or...? How much... do you know... already... about yourself...?"

He pauses, then adds again, "I just... want to... understand. Why I am... what I am..."

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn gets a serious look on her face as he starts to explain this. "I wonder if you're a mutant. You're not the first person to have a sudden huge change in your life. So I think yo uprobably came about the right place. As for me.. I don't know a lot. I know there's something magical about me, but I don't know very much about magic. It's something I'm ont sure about."

Swamp Thing has posed:
The face on the tree opens it's eyes back up, the bark beginning to move more fluidly, more naturally, the longer the unknowing Avatar of the Green spends inhabiting this form, the odd hollow holes focusing in on the hovering form of Megan Gwynn.

"I thought... as much..." he says, responding to Pixie's comments about her relatively lack of knowledge about the nature of her magic, "I... relate, child... I'm... unsure, as well..."

The face disappears for a moment, seemingly drawing itself back into the tree, the bark of the Spruce returning to it's usual appearance... the face, as well as the voice, re-appear on the OPPOSITE side of the tree. The side facing the Institute. The Tree Thing's hollow eyes gaze... it's hard for a tree to look longingly at something, but if it were possible, it most certainly would be happening now.

"You have... friends... teachers? You are... fortunate..." he groans sadly, a few leaves fluttering down slowly from the branches of the trees - a bit early in this area for this kind of tree to be losing it's leaves. Is the Thing... crying? Regardless, his voice carries on in the same dull, deep, slow monotone - betraying no emotion itself.

"I'm... happy... for you, at least..." there is a pause, and the bark above the tree's hollow eyes furrows, as if in thought, "You might... learn more... then...? I hear... the man who owns... this school... has a good heart. If he can help you... I'm sure... he will..."

The hollow eyes move from staring at the Institute to look back up at the floating Pixie, an oddly genuine question coming from the... bizarre tree thing, "You are... happy here...?"

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn is patient with him. He's speaking slowly, and he seems very sad, very troubled by whatever changed him. It could be a mutation of this kind, but it could be something else. There are people who could answer that question though. "Yes, this is a nice place to be, Alec. The Professor is good and tries to help people. He might be able to find out what happened to you. I can't speak for him, but he's who I'd go to , if I were you."

Swamp Thing has posed:
The mention of the name... Alec... The branches droop noticeably, depositing a massive load of leaves onto the grass below.

"You're... very kind... but Alec Holland... is dead..."

"I wish you... only the best, Gwynn... I sensed you... across a great distance..." all the way from Louisiana, in fact - as a mutant with ties to the mystic realms, even ones not presently understood, Pixie's signature across the Astral Plane stood out in particular. And he's always had a certain... affinity, for those who don't quite fit into the human world. Though, for Swamp Thing, it is a disconnect of a far great magnitude.

"The Professor... has you all... to look after... The world... a dangerous place, child..." he sighs, what leaves remain on the bigger branches rustling, as a gust of wind picks up through the area - blowing the other trees around him to and fro, "I know... what it's like... to be hunted..."

"Please, child... be safe... I feel you have... potential... I don't know... how or... why..."

"We must... talk, more... when we have... more to discuss..."

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn isn't sure she believes that. "If you're dead, you coudln't be talking to me... you've changed, but lots of us have changed, and we're still alive." She nods. "Alright. Hopefully you have someone to help you. But... I might someday have the magic to do something like that, bt right now I don't, sorry. And good luck." She the whole time just keeps on hovering near the tree, watching, listening. Trying to figure out just what's going on and being very unsure about it all.

Swamp Thing has posed:
If he were in a better mood, maybe the Tree Thing would chuckle at that. It's a valid question. If Alec Holland is dead... WHY does he remember everything about the man's life.

"I thought so... too... once..." he says quietly, reaching out across the astral plane, attempting to project a rudimentary series of visions - he doesn't know if Pixie is able to pick up on such things, and he's still learning his abilities himself... but there are flashes. A lab explosion. A man, screaming, on fire, falling into the swamp. His body, consumed by micro-organisms. His skeleton, taken up by the vegetation. Something rising in the dark. And then... nothing.

"I wish... I could... explain, in words... So many questions..."

"I... thank you... for listening, Gwynn... perhaps, in time... you will have answers... of your own..."

"We... ALL... should know what... we are... And how we... fit... into the world..."

The face begins to recede back into the tree - the voice growing more distant; a brief, unexplained encounter coming to a seeming end, "Good luck, child... grow... learn... some day, perhaps... we will meet... with answers..."