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The Green of the Plant

Doug Offline
Once, many years ago, Doug had strolled into the Hot Topic at the Chicago Ridge Mall and purchased two books on request for his mentor: one was a book on herbology published by a company that catered exclusively to teenage girls going through a Wiccan phase, and the other a Necronomicon for edgy goths and stoners who wanted to reenact famous scenes from Bruce Campbell movies. For the following month, his mentor had dissected each book page-by-page, explaining why they were worth less than the paper that formed its pages and the ink that filled them, while expounding at great length about the actual nature of blood magic and herbology.
Firmly in his thirties, he still owned both books, motivated by that same combination of nostalgia and the insidious compulsion to preserve that a childhood of poverty instilled with him - the one that ensured he kept every present that anyone had bestowed upon him, no matter how useless, inexpensive, or ill-conceived.
He owned better books about magic, secret ones that lined his shelves and until recently were masked by a simple illusion, warping their titles to appear unintelligible and utterly uninteresting to ensure that his rare visitors’ attention turned to safer pursuits. The veil had fallen, and the spells he cast without thought now remained in the memories of the general human population.
He still had yet to adjust fully, although he coped as best he could. For instance, his books were tucked carefully into his satchel, out of sight and out of mind, for the entire bus ride downtown, depositing him not at his final destination but at a nearby shop to avoid arousing questions. Once the taxi driver had his fare and his tip and disappeared from sight, Doug turned the corner, stepped into the plant shop, and was transported into another, familiar world.
He could sense her magic - not only hers but all of it, everything in the store wrapped around him, comforting tendrils of familiarity, the embrace of a loved one or the aromas of a holiday meal filling the air. Each plant clambering for his attention, not because he possessed any unique connection to them - he didn’t in the slightest - but for their potential.
A young woman stood behind the counter, and he greeted her with a nod, approaching her with the single-minded resolution that had seen him through countless experiments. Her gift was strong and splendid, his sixth sense tingling in the back of his mind to sing its praises.
“Good afternoon.” He remembered his manners well enough.

Played by: Dane

Age: 33

Species: Witch

Power: Magical Detection and Augmentation

Posts: 12
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