witchoftheflesh | The Unexplored Woodlands (Near The Hermit Shack), Friday Afternoon

After his meeting with Margo, Adrian had returned to the hotel to change and grab Boston and Bran, and they headed out to the other woodland that they'd spotted during their exploratory hike around the island. Immediately upon stepping into it, there was promise. For one thing, it lacked that oppressive feeling of old, deep magic. That was the same feeling that most Blackwood groves had, but a forest having that already didn't make it conducive to actually creating a witchwood.

He walked through the trees with his broom in his hand and Boston trotting in front of him, sniffing the ground with his cat nose like a bloodhound, though he'd be offended to his core by the comparison. The late summer sun was high and hot, but even with his hat and coat, the witch barely felt it through the bright green canopy of thick, fluffy trees. The forest was so dense with undergrowth that walking through it felt like trailing down a green canyon. It, too, was healthy land, even bound in by roads on all sides, and once you were within, it was easy to forget those roads existed. It was all just forest. Thick, dense, impossibly green forest everywhere one looked. It wouldn't ever be able to grow, but for a temperary Blackwood grove, that was actually kind of perfect. Once it was time for him to move to Seattle and start his real grove, he'd be able to reabsorb all the magic that made it a Blackwood grove without worrying that some had spilled beyond, and leave behind a healthy and thriving woodland.

"Some interesting things," Boston reported. "For one thing, there are some signs of a weird ambient magical effect from some patches of the soil here. Almost like a spying effect. We'll need to blank that out before we begin."

"Okay," Adrian said, pulling out a notebook and taking notes.

"There's too much saltwater intrusion. If we grow the forest as quickly as we need, we'll suck all the fresh water out of the water table and kill every other plant on the island."

"Really?" Adrian asked, kneeling down on the ground to draw out a diagram of the island in the dirt. He and Boston bickered for several minutes, resulting in no fewer than five diagrams being drawn while they discussed rainfall, flow rates, tides, and run-off.

"Which is why I keep saying we need to set up a desalination spell," Boston insisted, stabbing his paw at the line he'd drawn with his claws two minutes ago. "Clearing the salt will let us draw water straight from the inlet. We won't even have to touch the water table."

"But that will make the roots grow the wrong way," Adrian argued. "No desalination spell lasts forever. If we create a false water source, all the trees will grow toward that instead of down toward the groundwater."

"Then dig a trench," Boston snapped. "We just need to flood the ground temporarily. The moment you stop accelerating the forest;s growth, water needs will fall back to baseline, by which point we'll have other systems in place. One year, max. That's all we'll need."

Adrian pulled off his hat to scrub his hands through his hair. He hated relying on magical cheats to shore up what should be a natural process. It went against the core principles of witchcraft, but Boston had a point. If he wanted to grow a Blackwood grove on an island, he was going to have to deal with the sea. He'd actually brought along a store of materials for precisely this situation, but knowing nothing about Fandom before arriving, he'd failed to account for just how much saltwater he'd be dealing with. No matter which way he turned the problem, though, there was no other solution, and he slapped his hat back onto his head with a sigh. "You're right," he admitted as he hauled himself to his feet.

"Of course I'm right," Boston said with a lash of his tail. "It's my job to be right. Fortunately, this is an easy fix. All we need is some Lot's Salt."

"Which we don't have," Adrian reminded him. "But can easily get," the cat countered. "There's an Anchor Market just across the water in Baltimore."

"You mean the one that's going to be crawling with warlocks? That we might not even be able to get to, considering the parallel worlds and all?"

"That's why you hire security," Boston said. "And we don't need it immediately. That should give you plenty of time to figure out how to access the Anchor Market. Or there might be other places to get it here on the island. Ask around."

"All right, all right. What else?"

"There's a hot spring nearby, which we'll have to take into our calculations."

Adrian pointed to one of the diagrams they'd drawn. "Already noted that. Next?"

"There's a house to the south, not far from the road with all the warehouses. Absolutely crawling with necromantic energy. We're going to have to set up wards to make sure the woodlands don't absorb any of it during the process."

"Necromancy, huh? I guess we found out who's responsible for the zombies at the bar."

"Hmph," Boston sniffed. "Shoddy work for someone with as much magic as I'm sensing."

"We'll have to go say hello later. Is that all?"

"Isn't that enough?" Boston demanded.

"I just don't want to overlook anything." Bran rustled, tapping Adrian on the shoulder and then floating off in the direction of the lake. "Looks like Bran found something, too. Let's go."

About fifteen minutes of hiking later, they found themselves in a good-sized clearing - one perfectly situated for a house and a garden. And within sight of large Douglas fir that would be perfect to make his heart tree. There was an old shack there, but Adrian didn't mind that. It felt old, too, and almost part of the forest itself, and he was loath to get rid of it. That was fine, though; there were plenty of uses he could put it to.

"Well, I guess this place has Bran's vote. Boston?"

"Obviously."

"Then it's unanimous. Let's mark out how big we want the plot to be so we can make a bid on it," he declared.

It felt right here. Not quite like home - but like it could be.

[Bits and pieces of the description and discussion adapted from Rachel Aaron's Hell For Hire.]

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The aura of depression, sadness, and loneliness from Obi-Wan's time in the shack was somewhat overwhelming.

Ahsoka rose to her feet. "Hello, yourself," she said with a wry smile.

"So, this is very awkward," Adrian admitted with a chagrinned laugh. "I'm still getting used to meeting new people, but I'm pretty sure that debating to tear their house down isn't the right way to do it. So, ah, hello." Adrian, you said that.

"Right, I said that."

He was doing great. "I'm Adrian Blackwood. This is my cat, Boston, and my broom, Bran. I know that Bran is also mortified, I'm not sure about Boston."

"I'm not," Boston assured his witch. "Nor apologetic. This wasn't my error." He gave Bran a flat look while Adrian shrugged at the Ahsoka in a way that was meant to communicate Cats, yo.

It was common to most felines, in Ahsoka's experience. Though Boston looked more a like a tooka than most Earth cats did.

"It's generally considered one of the less polite ways," she agreed with a nod to each of them in turn. "Ahsoka Tano. I'm guessing you're new to the island."

"Arrived on Monday," Adrian said, still a bit sheepish. "Are you another person who can just tell from looking at me, or does everyone else know not to come trample onto your property?"

"It's a small island and it's that time of year," Ahsoka replied. "And it's a bit out of the way for visitors."

Sad. Hermit. Vibes.

Yeah, he was definitely picking up on the intense hermit vibes and the feeling of trespassing was increasing.

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that again," he said with an awkward laugh. "I was looking at it through the lens of open woodland, not the benefits of, err, no neighbors. I'll make sure to find a spot that gives you plenty of personal space."

"I don't mind neighbours," Ahsoka said. "But family of mine, an older brother-" From a certain point of view. "-lived here for some time some years back, and when I came back here and needed somewhere to live..." Especially since crashing on Anakin's couch had been out of the question. Because reasons.

"You get the idea."

"I do," Adrian said, nodding. "Family is important and so is connecting with your roots. An important point of connection, especially if you're far from home."

Which he was assuming she was. She wasn't human, or demon, or a member of any of the few magical races that had survived Gilgamesh's purges, so he was guessing non-local.

She was a survivor of a purge though!

"Very far," Ahsoka confirmed. "The island is an exception but the humans native to this world aren't even aware of my people, or any other sapients, really."

Okay, but that was the bad part of the sentence to have in common!

Adrian gave a rueful half-smile. "Nor am I," he admitted. "At least of your people." He was aware of plenty of terrestrial non-human sapients, at least. "Though most of the humans native to my world aren't aware of the magic that's their very birthright. And the rest...well, it depends on whether you're on the winning side or not."

From the way his mouth had twisted, it seemed likely that he was very firmly 'not.'

"Who are your people? If you don't mind the personal question."

It did make for awkward conversations.

"I'm a Togruta." She was just going to leave the Jedi part to one side for the moment, because the island had a remarkably high Jedi density even by pre-Empire standards. "As you likely guess we're not from this planet at all."

"I was kind of leaning that way," he said with a soft laugh. He was just going to leave the part about how she kind of looked like an envy demon to one side for the...foreseeable future, actually. He was starting to get the idea that the demons of his world and the demons of the others' were very different. "A pleasure to meet you," he continued, offering her his hand. "I am fairly certain you're the first person from another planet that I've met and definitely the first Togruta. Now I'm extra wishing I made a better first impression."

Ahsoka took his hand in a firm grip. "Believe me, I've had far worse from people." No. Seriously. She had some horror stories.

Adrian's grip was also strong, his palm weathered and and lightly calloused. Not sword callouses or anything that suggested he was a warrior, but the kind that would build up from swinging an axe or a shovel.

"Yeah, I wish that surprised me," Adrian sighed. "I am pleased to have jumped over that very low bar, at least." A pause. "...Here?"

It would be a good idea to get a baseline of how the population of the island responded.

Ahsoka's callouses on the other hand were definitely from a lightsaber hilt.

"Not here," she clarified. "The island is a remarkably accepting place."

"Huh," Adrian said slowly. "Well, that's a nice change. Err, not that everyone hasn't been welcoming and friendly thus far, but..."

That really wasn't the expected way of the world.

"It's the kind of thing people aren't always good on following through on," Ahsoka finished for him.

Look, just because Jedi believed in people being their best selves it didn't mean that wasn't work.

"Pretty much," he agreed with another soft laugh, though it sounded a bit pained. "Not even always out of malice. Probably not even usually out of malice."

Though there were several groups he wouldn't give that benefit of the doubt to, so far he hadn't seen a single one here.

"People are complicated is what I suppose I'm getting at."

The Unexplored Woodlands (Near The Hermit Shack), Friday Afternoon

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