9188/The Orange and the Green

The Orange and the Green
Date of Scene:	14 September 2019
Location:	Isley Gardens, South Channel Island
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Poison Ivy, Rupert Giles

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Poison Ivy has posed:
    It would have been a small message, sent, of all things, by email.

    How Poison Ivy knew of Giles did not matter. But what mattered was that Pamela Isley had invited him into her garden, with a deal intended to be made. Poison Ivy's reputation might be very well known, especially by a Watcher. A criminal who has recently turned over a new leaf... there was yet enough shady rumor around her to make one wary.

    And the enticing pheremones the woman commanded would have to be dealt with, lest Giles' mind twist to her twisted desires.

    But as it was, well... the labs were not in nearly as good shape as one might expect. Trees and vines broke into the greenhouse walls, the roof damaged to let in light and nature.

    And the thin lights that hung from the remains, that could be seen through the blasted door, showed a verdant indoors to the labs, twisting plants and otherwise seen within. But one might immeadiately notice an increase in humidity and tempurature, in spite of the weather, if they were to walk up the walk and enter the greenhouse.

    Everything within the walk, and the greenhouse was terribly silent. Not even birds could be heard. No animals - seemingly no insects. Simply green.

Rupert Giles has posed:
    Rupert Giles was only mildly familiar with the numerous super-powered heroes and villains in the world, as his days tended to be busy with his shop, and his nights with training the Slayer(s). His field of expertise was not Weird Science and capes.

    Even then, however, he was familiar enough to know about her reputed 'charms'. He'd crafted a salve that he'd applied just behind his ears. The ancient, occult unguent fights against mind-control. It isn't perfect, but it is far more defense then the average man has against her.

    He slips into the ruined, yet beautiful lair, and holds to the shoulder strap of his scholar's bag firmly. The handsome older man is dressed in slacks and a button-up under a sweatervest. His glasses perch on the edge of his nose. He clears his throat as he makes his way a bit further in.

    "Hello?"

Poison Ivy has posed:
    And in the darkness, somewhere within the confines of the greenhouse - 'something' lurked. There was motion. And not just the motion that one would expect of a humanoid. But something slipping and sliding together. Flowering vines could be seen moving - Giles probably had to step over some of them on the way in.

    But there was a stepping sound.

    Once Giles got past the blasted doorway, there was something resembling a lab. What would draw the eye further to that area was that it was the one place within the greenhouse where the plants had seemed to back off entirely, leaving it look like... more or less, a lab that had been cut free of the rest of a building and put straight within the area.

    "Mister Giles," comes a voice, sly, in the darker parts of the greenhouse. And two green eyes can be seen amongst the same. The shifting vines reach up almost as if to greet her - some of the vines reaching out to curl up her legs to make stockings of sorts - her red hair seen as she steps into the light of leaking through the blasted parts of the roof.

    "I wasn't quite expecting you to come in person," she says, the edge of her lip lifting up in a wry smile. "You're either very very brave - or very very foolish," she says. The cloying scent of the greenhouse seems to cling to her, becoming all the more concentrated within her presence.

    That sickly sweet scent that would remind one of poison.

    "Can I get you anything? Tea, perhaps?" she says, making a gesture to the lighted lab portion - and no doubt some of the tables that could be found there. Her clothes were living - made of large petals and twisting vines. And her hair blossomed with a coat of violet flowers today.

Rupert Giles has posed:
    "I am certainly very something," the man mutters softly to himself as he reaches up to lightly adjust his glasses. "I'm not in the habit of sending others into situations that are so dangerous I would not do them myself. I am a guide, certainly, but I am not incompetent." His voice is pleasant, and he has a crisp British accent. Somewhat old-fashioned sounding.

    He turns his head a bit to follow her movements and make sure he does not lose sight of her as one of his hands tightens a bit on the strap of his bag at his shoulder. It is slight, and the only real sign of any nervousness.

    "I do not mean to be rude, Doctor, but I am fine. It's a bit too late for a proper cup of tea, anyhow."

Poison Ivy has posed:
    There were small buds on the vines near Giles' feet - or perhaps winding through the walls near his head - that blossom as the man pass, a little subtle 'puff' of something released from them glimmering in the air as they sense something mammallian.

    But these things are less active as she steps towards the more modern part of her little ruined lab, a gesture of her hand drawing a chair away from a small lab bench, and turning it towards Giles? Was she telepathic?

    Perhaps. But there were vines drawing the same across the floor. Out of the dimmer part of the lab something larger moves - a bud nearly two meters high and one across. It blooms - forming a living chair of sorts that moves to swoop behind Ivy's back, and she sets herself down onto it, folding one leg over the other.

    "It's rude to refuse a host's hospitaliaty - but such is the right of the guest, I suppose," says the woman. "Do have a seat, would you not?" she asks.

    "I have a favor to ask of you. And I suspect... that I can..." Leaning forward a bit, her assets were seen a little more readily, her crimson hair falling over her shoulder as she leans in her chair with an interest. "...offer you something in return?" she asks.

Rupert Giles has posed:
    "I do not mean to be rude," he says softly, adjusting his glasses. He glances about the lab again before he sinks slowly into the offered seat. He removes the satchel from his shoulder and rests it in his lap. He adjusts the old, leather bag before he glances back up and across towards her.

    "I suppose I shouldn't take you at rumor, but give you a proper chance beyond simply coming to meet with you. I would love a cup of tea, Doctor. I have no doubt you have some floral brews I'd be quite unfamiliar with..."

    He cocks his head to the side a bit to consider her mention of needing a favor. He is about to respond when she leans forward like that. The man is slightly flustered, and his gaze dips a hint to admire her before he glances to the side, catching himself. He clears his throat.

    "And...how could I help you?"

Poison Ivy has posed:
    There was an uptick to her ruby red lips, a heightening of her smile as Giles obviously considers her. She had spied that hint, and by the mild victory in those brilliantly green eyes, she knew it. An almost smugness in her demeanor as she straightens up again, leaning back within her floral chair.

    Just pretend she had a kettle within reach.

    A small dish is drawn towards her with her short dark nails - and she picks up a handful of the petals within to set within two separate teacups - the water poured into the same.

    "Magic, dearest Professor. Within certain circles, you are very well known for your... ability to research these things. A friend of a friend of a friend suggested my name to you," says the woman coyly.

    Picking up one of the glasses, she lets it steep, letting her fingers warm around the teacup, her attention fixed upon Giles.

    "And I do have a problem with a ritualist in Gotham that I am... certain you could help me with. Couldn't you?" she asks, a curious cant of her head, and an uplift of her smile.

    "What can you tell me about a ritual that may - or may not be - causing plants to wither and die?"

Rupert Giles has posed:
    He glances back towards her, watching as Ivy prepares the cups of floral tea. He does a very good job, for the most part, of focusing on her movements and not her assets. He has a lot more will then the average man, after all, but he is still a human being. Giles reaches out to take the other cup of tea and brings it to his face for a curious sniff before he brings it to the top of the satchel while it steeps.

    "I have been known to be knowledgeable in the esoteric and occult, yes. The odd things that fall between the cracks and do not quite fall into the realm of the superheroic, but instead the supernatural..."

    He furrows his brow a bit and leans back in his seat, sitting with proper posture as he watches her, instead of sitting forward. "A ritual with a necrotic or withering effect?," he asks, curiousy. "There could be many. Do you have any of the withered or dessicated plants? I could check to see if their lifeforce was siphoned, or simply snuffed out. That alone could give us a wealth of information."

Poison Ivy has posed:
    The tea would not be poisonous, at least.

    But it would not be the typical tea; tasted of rose and violets, with an underpinning of something vaguely fruity. But Ivy keeps her tea within her right hand, her left to lay upon the armrest of her chair as she arranges herself comfortably within her seat.

    "Necrotic," says Ivy. "Whichever being has been doing this has not yet had the wherewithal to attack my greenhouse directly, so I suspect that I am not upon the radar, but yet..."

    "I do. Outside, you may have noticed a dead tree laying within the yard. I have been trying to revive it, and have yet been unable to," says Ivy to Giles.

    "You can imagine how much this concerns me," she suggests, taking a smallish sip of the warm water, her green eyes flickering along Giles' coyly.

    "And I care little for the superheroic. The Green is my main focus - and the animals that... do not treat the plant life as kindly as they should will be punished," she says, smiling, her eyes narrowing just a bit.

    "Through entirely legal means, of course," she says. "Which is why your help in discovering just what is happening here is... so... so very valuable to me, Giles," she says, her voice drawing out - cooing with almost a promise of gratitude beyond Rupert's wildest imaginings.

Rupert Giles has posed:
    The man nods slowly to that as he brushes his fingers back through his hair. "Well, first of all, no such appreciation is needed. I will be happy to help you solve this issue for the fact that whoever is doing it is likely dabbling in darker magic. That raises my interest."

    He clears his throat slightly adn adjusts his satchel in his lap, considering. "If you allow me to take a branch of the dead tree, then I can use various methods to determine the magical methods and...possibly signature of the individual or individuals behind it. With that they can be stopped..."

    He brings the tea to his lips, taking a sip. "This is very good."

Poison Ivy has posed:
    "Not many people enjoy the taste, Professor," says Ivy, dangling her left foot idly as they speak, her attention full upon the man seated across from her. "I would allow you to do this," says Ivy, "...and I would even allow you to return to me, after you should spend some time investigating this in... whatever you possibly could," she says.

    "...I do hope you do your very, very best to do this for me, my dearest," she says, whispering that affection as if she only spoke it for him.

    "...it would please me very, very much. And I suspect you are a man who takes pride in his ability to please," she says, setting herself heavily back into her seat, her eyes full upon him.

    "If you would wish," Ivy adds. "You may take a handful of these petals back with you. So you can enjoy this tea anytime you would wish, Giles," she says to him, her secret little smile lingering upon her lips.

Rupert Giles has posed:
    "I do not teach. I am not a Professor," he says after a moment. "Rupert. Rupert would be...fine." He reaches up to adjust his glasses and clears his throat a bit. He's trying very hard not to show how much she flusters him, but she no doubt knows exactly how much she is effecting him.

    "There is a very rough situation going on in the world right now regarding ley lines and magic, and it might...somewhat get in the way of my research. I will do my best, however. I will come back here once I have information for you."

    Even though the situation is pretty much agreed upon, Giles doesn't seem to be in an absolute rush to get up and walk out to cut a branch from the tree. He lingers, his bright eyes on her for the moment.

Poison Ivy has posed:
    And Ivy smiles just a bit wider as Giles says what he does. "Rupert," she says, her voice drawn low - huskier, for a moment. Her pink tongue seen against her green lips for a moment - a stark contrast as if she tastes the name upon her lips.

    "I know you will try your very very best for me," Ivy says, placing her teacup aside, the ceramic clicking against the metal of the lab table. "But really... isn't something that threatens all of the plants in the world - something that threatens me... isn't that important too, dearest..." Ivy pauses a moment, before just breathing out the next word.

    "Rupert?"

    A handful of moments there, and the woman just lets that word hang in the air. Letting silence and that heady scent rule the interaction.

    "...the tree is to the left as you exit the way you came in," she says. "I cannot /wait/ until you have an update for me," she just about gushes.

Rupert Giles has posed:
    The ungent behind his ears should be saving him from her pheremones, and yet he can feel his heart pounding in his chest and his normally sedate thoughts veering to the inappropriate. He nods a bit and slowly rises to his feet. He turns partially away as he slides his satchel back into place on his shoulder.

    "Absolutely, Ivy." He isn't calling her Doctor. "I'll focus my attention onto it as soon as I can. I need to get back to Sunnydale to really...look into it." He glances back over towards her and his cheeks redden a bit before he fully turns his attention from her. He has to, or he won't leave. "Goodnight..."

    He forces one foot in front of the other until he is out of the lab. He pulls a sharp knife from his pocket and cuts a decent piece of the tree away to investigate...before he begins his trek home.