overflow.

[flamebrand]

nsfw included in the threads! please skim through at your own risk...!

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[flamebrand]

[ objectify him more king you deserve it ]

First your father, now a tree. I have a name, you know.

[recreatable]

I didn't mean to offend.

[ oh this is not a safe space to give fun french nicknames suddenly ]

I only meant that you're sturdy, like an old oak.

[flamebrand]

And as wide as a Portier, and as dull as a Sakapatate. Anything else?

[recreatable]

I was attempting charming impertinence about looking at you impolitely.

[ please it was a cOMPLIMENT ]

Clearly, I only achieved impertinence.

[flamebrand]

[ Laughing!! ] And I was trying my hand at humor. Clearly, we both need to work harder in our respective fields.

[recreatable]

I'm rusty. [ At, like, interacting with human beings. ] What's your excuse?

[flamebrand]

[ let's face it, Verso is shockingly well-adjusted for a guy who spent like 8 decades socializing solely with jabbering broom-people. ]

A tumultuous adolescence defined by death. [ wow ok clive

that said: ] I got over it.

[recreatable]

[ ... ]

Want to talk about it?

[flamebrand]

If you eat all your mushrooms.

[recreatable]

I'm old enough to be your grandfather, you know.

[ great-grandfather actually but who's counting... ]

But I wouldn't dream of insulting the chef.

[flamebrand]

I may not even burn the pot, this time.

[ Unlike the last time he was on cooking duty, when he almost burned the entire campsite down, let alone the pot. Shh. ]

I'll be back shortly. And thank you for your mushroom-related counsel.

[recreatable]

Remember: small speckles, not medium-small. [ There's a difference!! ] I'd rather you all didn't die tonight.

[flamebrand]

[ ... ]

On second thought, I might have you appraise my findings before I commit to cooking them.

[recreatable]

[ ... ]

I'll do the foraging.

[ gotta do everything my fucking self around here ]

[flamebrand]

[ 🥺🥺🥺 ]

No. You rest. I'll never get better at foraging if I don't try.

[recreatable]

You'll never get better if you die, either. I had a lot of close calls before I got good at it.

[ or maybe he just grew a tolerance...... ]

At least let me teach you. You know, poison mushrooms still give me a stomachache.

[flamebrand]

[ Clive reads this and thinks he definitely died a few times eating bad mushrooms, Founder help him. ]

...Alright. If you'd do me the kindness, I'd appreciate it.

I'm by the thickets near the cliff walls.

[ Staring at his basket with mounting suspicion. Are these small... or medium-small spots?????? ]

[recreatable]

[ I'M COOL WITH WRAPPING HERE IF YOU DESIRE... again no pressure to allow me to hold you hostage... but if a slide into action intrigues, Verso pops up next to the tree trunk that is Clive after a few minutes, glancing into his basket for what he's already foraged.

Gesturing to a few brown-capped mushrooms: ]

—Oh, no. You, uh, don't want to cook with these.

[ But he is pocketing them for himself. Don't worry about it. ]

[flamebrand]

[ i live in your inbox now........ Clive glances up when Verso sneakily insinuates himself into his space, and bows his head in greeting－

－before his expression shifts, first to disappointment (he really thought he had this!!!), then to surprise (hello????). ]

Ah. [ Gesturing for Verso to, like, hand the deathshrooms over. ] ―We should toss those over the cliff, then. [ Verso please he is so worried about you ]

[recreatable]

[ First of all, he's a grown man, and if he wants to recreationally poison himself, he has that right. Maybe he just wants to feel something!!! Second of all: ] It's not that sort of mushroom.

[ A deathshroom, he means. Not these ones, anyway. There's a very faint upwards curl to his lips, perhaps a bit amused at Clive's misunderstanding. (Admittedly, the interpretation isn't entirely unfounded.) ]

These ones will make you smell colors.

[ So unless Clive wants the whole camp to start tripping balls, it's probably wise not to put them in his stew. ]

[flamebrand]

[ Oh. ]

Oh.

[ A moment for that to percolate, and Clive huffs a laugh, involuntary. ]

―Best not to tell Lune about those. She may make you eat them. For science.

[recreatable]

[ Eating them is the whole point, but maybe he doesn't need to explain to sweet, innocent Clive that, sometimes, when you're very old and have nothing to live for, you eat weird mushrooms to pass the time. ]

Right. [ Like it's a fun little secret: ] Best keep it between us.

[ Because he's not sharing. Verso crouches next to the thicket, then, pulling out his knife and gesturing to a fungus with the point of the blade. Light brown, with small speckles. Or is it medium-small? ]

So. Death or dinner?

[flamebrand]

[ "Best keep it between us" isn't "I promise I won't eat the mushrooms that will make me trip balls", but. You know what. Verso's been remarkably trustworthy (cue laugh track) thus far, so Clive will assume that the psychedelics are for something other than casual consumption.

"Death or dinner" is a somewhat more pressing concern, anyway. Clive kneels next to Verso, brows furrowed in concentration, observing the small (medium-small?) spots with knifelike intensity. ]

D... [ hnrgh ] ...eath. [ With more conviction, this time: ] Death.

[recreatable]

[ Verso waits patiently for Clive to make his decision, expression expectant, and nods in encouragement when he finally does. Gold star for Clive! ] And not a pretty one, either.

[ The agony of death by mushroom is recalled with a tone mundane enough that it sounds more like he's discussing the weather. Honestly, it doesn't even break the top five of memorable near death experiences. It's only notable for the quite frankly excessive amount of times it happened to him before he learned to tell the nigh-indistinguishable mushrooms apart.

He stands, twirling his parrying dagger idly. ]

You're looking in the wrong place. [ Then, pointing with the blade: ] There's a cave not far from here where the ones that won't kill you grow.

[flamebrand]

[ !! Invisible dog ears prick upwards, happy to have won (?) The Mushroom Game; they droop somewhat immediately after, when he considers the amount of trial-and-error that must have happened until Verso like, learned to stop dying via shroom poisoning. "Not a pretty one" doesn't conjure pleasant images, after all.

But enough of being patronizing over Verso's wellbeing (for now). Blue eyes flick towards the cave, expression settling into quiet contemplation. ]

You really do know your way around every inch of the Continent.

[ Not accusatory. Mostly, just trying to wrap his head around the immortality thing, especially since so much of his life (everyone's life) in Lumière has been so steeped in the inevitability of the end. The Gommage, as looming as the Monolith across the sea. ]