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witchofthefleshAfter 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.]
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.]
no subject
Date: 2024-09-06 05:37 am (UTC)"Not here," she clarified. "The island is a remarkably accepting place."
no subject
Date: 2024-09-06 09:31 pm (UTC)That really wasn't the expected way of the world.
no subject
Date: 2024-09-06 11:24 pm (UTC)Look, just because Jedi believed in people being their best selves it didn't mean that wasn't work.
no subject
Date: 2024-09-07 12:24 am (UTC)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."