2538/What You Find Among the Trees

What You Find Among the Trees
Date of Scene:	20 July 2020
Location:	ArcTerra
Synopsis:	Shared ideas seed possibilities... or worse.
Cast of Characters:	Pamela Isley, Meggan Puceanu

---

Pamela Isley has posed:
It's been too long of keeping low profile in New York City, perhaps by now that open search for her has died down. God knows Gotham always has a new crisis to deal with on any given day. What was new and exciting yesterday, is old news today. After all any one of a numerous number of villains would have performed this atrocity or that by now.

Ivy is so relaxed at that point, she doesn't even hide her natural skin color. Dressed in green leggings, white top and a sleek green jacket with a popped collar, she walks about the ArcTerra very much in the open. As she walks along the path, every flower and plant she walks past seem to grow and bloom all the brighter, welcoming her presence with delight, as she waves her hands about as if to greet them. "Sweet babies, are you being taken care of in here...? Are the people nice to you...? Or do they deserve to be punished...? Hmmm..."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
ArcTerra ignores the seasons. An everlasting growing season shines on, protected from the chilly cold of winter or the waning tumble of autumn eroding the foliage. In the height of summer, bubbling humidity isn't much different from inside or out. Not that it bothers Meggan. Heat is a non-issue as she sits underneath one of the heavy palms, surrounded by tropical plants, running her finger along one of the thicker leaves patterned in hot orange and dark green.

A butterfly lazy floats around her, the blue morpho landing on her golden hair and resting its wings. She doesn't look too surprised, lifting her head slightly to the sound of Poison Ivy coming closer. The plant is fairly fond of her, thriving well enough, but she continues to pet the tropical leaves. Though it will be quite nothing like Mother coming by, so to speak.

A smile lifts; she turns that to the approaching woman on the path. "Good afternoon," says the blonde with a smile.

Pamela Isley has posed:
"Afternoon," Ivy answers, amused and curious as she encounters someone who partakes in civil conversation with her, rather than jumping to the all 'off to Arkham with you' song and dance. "You're unlike most humans...so what are you?" Ivy asks, noting how the butterfly goes to Meggan rather than shy away from her, and sensing how the plant doesn't mind Meggan's company one bit. Quite the contrary, she seems a welcomed guest, that alone paints her as a good person. "Here to entertain the plants? That is so different from most visitors, here to be entertained by them...I just might like you."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Slender fingers crook to trace the stiff stalk back towards a nest of equally bright leaves licked in flame, spots of variegation striking as though the plant is aflame. It's a sturdy thing, capable of withstanding a bit of manhandling without an issue, and the insects that try to bite hungrily get a little bit of a sting for their troubles. But there's no broken stem, no crushed greenery here. Seated on the bench, Meggan is unhurried in her speculation. The butterfly opens and closes its wings, looking like a small and colourful clip alive.

"I always heard talking to the plants makes them happier. They grow and tell the other plants they are content." Her voice is very much British, but more lyrical than a Londoner, something she cannot suppress. "I've not seen such diversity in a space like this before. Isn't it beautiful?" A small wiggle of her fingers indicates the glass over herself and Ivy. "Have you been here often? I've only come thrice now. I'm Meggan, by the way."

Pamela Isley has posed:
"But of course, wouldn't you be much happier when having company to talk to, over being ignored in prepetual silence? It's cruel, and quite rude. I appreciate you take the time to give them due attention," Ivy coos, as she approaches the greenery and starts caressing some leaves, vines and branches, ever lovingly and adoringly. "They are such beautiful beings, after all." Noting the inescapable accent, Ivy inquires, "a tourist?"

Ivy smiles and nods in agreement, "most beautiful, I come here on occasions to give a hand and help the plants grow and bloom. They are quite gorgeous. Nobody is allowed to harm them in here..." she extends her hand towards Meggan, "Ivy," she cleverly does not reveal her full name. Albeit it's possible Meggan may have heard of her regardless.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The adoring reaction from the foliage doesn't actually upset Meggan. On the contrary, she watches Ivy with interest and the reaction brings a brimming smile to her lips. "It's unfortunate when people get so caught up in their lives they forget to see what is around them. They are beautiful here. I can tell how much care they have here, too." The butterfly flits off, going to find some bright orange flower among the jade plants and tall palms holding up the canopy far overhead. "I haven't ever seen plants respond so happily to someone. Enchanted, Ivy," she adds. It holds enough candor to probably mean exactly what she says. Taking the offered hand in her own, the touch is light, but sure. "It suits. I think to come here more often. People need to see something like this in a city, and know more greenspace is precious. Better than yet another glass tower."

Pamela Isley has posed:
Ivy smiles at Meggan's informed comment, "you have eyes, you have feelings, and you use them. That is commendable, Meggan," Ivy offers her take, as she looks over when a vine approaches Meggan, sprouting a colorful pink and magenta flower, before it detaches to remain in Meggan's lap. "Such a pretty soul deserves a pretty flower."

Ivy grins wider, "indeed, too much of that asphalt jungle to mar the face of Mother Nature. It just won't do."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"I can't really ignore this. Or the fact that people talk all the time about fixing up cities or generating these grand projects, but they forget the pocket parks or the biodiverse wetlands when they're selling off the coastline to their developer friends." English she may be, but there's a keen and precise awareness for Gotham politics there. She pauses and blinks when the vine opens for a flower, but holds out her cupped hands all the same to Ivy. "Thank you. And I'm sort of a tourist? Transplanted a bit ago, still learning my way around here. American things are still a bit tricky, so please let me know if I say something wrong. I've already been told it's a trunk, not a boot, about three or four times." She smiles at this, and holds the flower close.

"You're lovely, by the way. That kind of confidence really is special, and I hope no one causes you too much trouble for it." The slight tilt of her head might shift the silver and gold-threaded hair, revealing the slight elfin point of an ear. "Asphalt is the worst. The runoff, so none of the rain can soak into the land or replenish the water table... there's whole barren neighbourhoods all around. Have you heard about the mayor, his plans to fix some of that?"

Pamela Isley has posed:
"Indeed, there's a cost to animals, there's a cost to plants...Mother Nature always comes last in their path of greed, if it ever comes up at all," Ivy hisses, the topic clearly dear to her heart, and one that irritates her quite often. "I hear the accent when you talk," Ivy offers with a kindly smile, "it's a pretty lilt." She chuckles at the concern for her well being, "men don't like confident women, but if they take issue with it, I put them in their place. I teach them to respect me..." she doesn't mention the bit about most not surviving the lesson, but that's neither here nor there. "YES!" Ivy is thrilled to be holding conversation with someone who understands, "roads are a plague!"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"There's some talk of fixing up the Narrows. Making it safe to actually come out. I worry about the brownsites though. The pollution from old industrial facilities, who knows what leaches into the water table. And people unjustly discriminated against to reclaim those places just because they haven't the money or the right name or colour to be heard. I don't know the solution to that. How Gotham gets to be a model of a green city, but I hope to bring some attention to it." Which twigs with the many followers tumbling after her in social media, with the quiet, irresistibly determined crusade fiercely waged on an island with its native forests plowed under, yoked to development for two millennia. "It's a bit of a passion project, sorry if I go on." She dips her head a bit. "But places like this, they give me hope. People come here. Someone saw the need. Linking together greenways and parks might preserve a little bit more, and show people here it's good to have our friends around." A friendly nod takes in the greenery that lavishes its affection on Ivy. Her smile stays to the warm side. "Go outside should be safe to say, not the chance it'll get you shot."

Pamela Isley has posed:
"I may be of help in your quest...we shall meet again and have words, perhaps even action," Ivy winks at Meggan, "but if you'll excuse me, I must say hello to all my darlings here, and there are so many," she coos like a mother talking to her babies as she turns away from Meggan and keeps venturing fruther into the ArcTerra.