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rainbowfic2023-08-06 05:44 pm
wallwalker) wrote in rainbowfic2023-08-06 05:44 pm
Metallic Gold 6 (The Marked Man)
Author: Wallwalker
Story: Green Plains
'Verse: The Marked Man
Colors: Metallic Gold #6 (tool)
Supply: Brush (Ameliorate)
Styles: Cut-away, Panorama, Graffiti (11 Years of Rainbowfic pt 7)
Word Count: 1381
Rating: T
Content notes: Some discussion of body horror.
Summary:World building for the Marked Man - a discussion of the vine that ate the world.
Note: No characters, this is pretty much an examination of fantasy plant biology.
Current claim list, in progress.
The vines have covered the world for as long as the oldest living person can remember. They are a problem that no one knows how to solve.
In some places the vines still grow upward, climbing and covering buildings and walls that could not hold them back. The tallest structures are from long ago, and have only begun to wear down; the sad cases of more recent settlements are much lower to the ground. People suppose they would cover trees as well, but those are known only from old pictures and storybooks. Some say that there are seeds stored somewhere in case the vines can ever be held back long enough, but even if anyone has them, they have not bothered planting them. There were few places where the vines did not reach; they would be smothered too early in their lives to make the attempt worthwhile.
Between settlements and ruins it will often grow flat against the ground, its brownish vines covered by deep green leaves, covering it like a carpet. People have long speculated how the plant survives without sucking the land dry, why the leaves can keep growing. Some say that even in its dormant state it receives nutrients from other plants, permitting it to keep growing and thriving; they are connected, they say, by roots deep within the ground. But those roots seem to grow just as quickly as the plants themselves; most attempts to dig trenches to sever those connections and try to kill the dormant plants have failed. They grow far too deep.
Tendrils will often rise between the vines, thin and green, like the blades of grass that grow in other older stories. They blow in the wind, curving sligtly, seeking some new thing that will stay long enough for it to wrap around. Then they will rise, and new growth will come as it takes what nourishment from the new object that it can and rise towards the sun.
The purple flowers only bloom when they climb, and even then only when they are able to find the water and trace nutrients that it needs in the soil. Then it will leave its dormancy, and the sweet purple blooms will burst forth, filling the air with their purfume. But people know better than to breathe it in, for the most part, and will wear masks when they have to pass too close to a flowering vine. It is not the scent itself, they tell each other in whispers, but the pollen; no one knows why it can draw warm-blooded beasts and men to it. Many types of birds and many types of furry beasts are in danger from their pollen, including humans. Nearly every settlement has a sad tale of people not taking proper precautions during a bloom. They walk away, often during the night, not knowing who they are or where they go. And when they walk into the blooming vines, most of them do not come back.
A few try. Not many survive. Most people in the settlements believe that once a person is exposed to the pollen, they cannot return to their old life, not without trying to entice others to do the same. Only a few are brave enough to accept them and try to help them recover.
Nearly every part of the vine is toxic to humans and beasts, to some degree or another. There are very few exceptions - goats, for instance, seem immune to its poison, and nearly every settlement has a field of goats that they allow to graze on the vines, to keep them away from their walls. They are also one of the very rare animals that can fully metabolize the poison; other animals that feed from the vines are toxic to humans as well, along with their meat, milk and eggs. Goats provide most of the milk, cheese, and (rarely) meat for most settlements.
The brightly-colored berries, meanwhile, are less toxic than the leaves and stems. They can een be eaten by settlers, if all other food sources fail... but only if they are skinned, de-seeded, boiled, mashed and boiled again. The process can take hours, and the mash that results is unpleasant to the tongue. A great deal of sweetener is required to make it palatable.
Sadly, not many forms of sweetness remain. The main source comes from a syrup derived from mashed beets; it is a rare village that does not grow at least a small field of beets, and up to half of them are allowed to go to seed, to ensure that they do not run out. No one knows where the first seeds came from, as they have been passed down through generations; some argue that there must have been a store of them once, but no one who lives knows the truth anymore.
Amongst birds, there are also a few who can eat the berries and fully break down the toxins. Geese are the primary example. While the geese are often too ornery and destructive to keep domestically, they can at least be coaxed into small ponds, so long as the water can be kept clear of most of the vines. They provide good eggs, so long as one is careful when harvesting them, although the meat is gamey and unpleasant.
Fish, for reasons unknown, are also often difficult to find. Some theorize that the roots of the vine grow into the waters, and that they are also toxic; others say that it is because the leaves and berries drop there as well. But so far there hasn't been much opportunity to prove their theories. Survival is a higher consideration.
Very few places are capable of trying to grow more labor-intensive crops. The sunflower farms further inland are a prime example. Through trial and error and long hours of labor, they were able to come up with a barrier capable of keeping most larger insects from flying outside of the settlement, including bees. The hives are carefully kept and fed on the sunflower fields, which are kept within the same barrier. The blooms never grow as large as they would without the barrier, which blocks out at least some portion of the sun, but they grow well enough to provide the bees with nectar and the settlement with honey. However, if even a portion of the barrier is damaged, the entire crop of honey must be considered tainted and discarded; the nectar of the flower is the most toxic part of the vine, and even a small amount will stain the honey purple and leave it inedible to humans. It's no surprise, then, that honey is one of the rarest and most expensive commodities between settlements, with sunflower seeds and sunflower oil a close second.
No one knows how many species the vines have killed off, either with its toxins or by crowding out their homes. The number, some say, is impossible to quantify. But there is enough to keep an ecosystem of sorts alive, and the humans do not dare throw it out of balance. They have no choice but to coexist with the vines and use them as tools the best they can; they grow back quickly when burnt and release toxic smoke, and cannot be dug out. They use blocks of earth as building materials, baked for days to ensure the roots are dead, though they are often still intact enough to keep the earth together, and create rope and thread from the vines' fibers in a long process that involves soaking the vines, removing the central fibers, and spinning them. It is not a difficult process, but there is little left to weave fabric with. The vines can be used to reinforce structures, although they have to also be baked to ensure they are thoroughly dead.
Many people would choose to destroy the vine if they could - to burn it all and damn the consequences. But a fire or poison strong enough to kill it would kill much more. Even if they could succeed... well, no one knows what would be left behind in such a world. So much has grown dependent on the vines, and so much more has died out that could have taken its place. No one knows if a world without them now could survive.
Story: Green Plains
'Verse: The Marked Man
Colors: Metallic Gold #6 (tool)
Supply: Brush (Ameliorate)
Styles: Cut-away, Panorama, Graffiti (11 Years of Rainbowfic pt 7)
Word Count: 1381
Rating: T
Content notes: Some discussion of body horror.
Summary:World building for the Marked Man - a discussion of the vine that ate the world.
Note: No characters, this is pretty much an examination of fantasy plant biology.
Current claim list, in progress.
The vines have covered the world for as long as the oldest living person can remember. They are a problem that no one knows how to solve.
In some places the vines still grow upward, climbing and covering buildings and walls that could not hold them back. The tallest structures are from long ago, and have only begun to wear down; the sad cases of more recent settlements are much lower to the ground. People suppose they would cover trees as well, but those are known only from old pictures and storybooks. Some say that there are seeds stored somewhere in case the vines can ever be held back long enough, but even if anyone has them, they have not bothered planting them. There were few places where the vines did not reach; they would be smothered too early in their lives to make the attempt worthwhile.
Between settlements and ruins it will often grow flat against the ground, its brownish vines covered by deep green leaves, covering it like a carpet. People have long speculated how the plant survives without sucking the land dry, why the leaves can keep growing. Some say that even in its dormant state it receives nutrients from other plants, permitting it to keep growing and thriving; they are connected, they say, by roots deep within the ground. But those roots seem to grow just as quickly as the plants themselves; most attempts to dig trenches to sever those connections and try to kill the dormant plants have failed. They grow far too deep.
Tendrils will often rise between the vines, thin and green, like the blades of grass that grow in other older stories. They blow in the wind, curving sligtly, seeking some new thing that will stay long enough for it to wrap around. Then they will rise, and new growth will come as it takes what nourishment from the new object that it can and rise towards the sun.
The purple flowers only bloom when they climb, and even then only when they are able to find the water and trace nutrients that it needs in the soil. Then it will leave its dormancy, and the sweet purple blooms will burst forth, filling the air with their purfume. But people know better than to breathe it in, for the most part, and will wear masks when they have to pass too close to a flowering vine. It is not the scent itself, they tell each other in whispers, but the pollen; no one knows why it can draw warm-blooded beasts and men to it. Many types of birds and many types of furry beasts are in danger from their pollen, including humans. Nearly every settlement has a sad tale of people not taking proper precautions during a bloom. They walk away, often during the night, not knowing who they are or where they go. And when they walk into the blooming vines, most of them do not come back.
A few try. Not many survive. Most people in the settlements believe that once a person is exposed to the pollen, they cannot return to their old life, not without trying to entice others to do the same. Only a few are brave enough to accept them and try to help them recover.
Nearly every part of the vine is toxic to humans and beasts, to some degree or another. There are very few exceptions - goats, for instance, seem immune to its poison, and nearly every settlement has a field of goats that they allow to graze on the vines, to keep them away from their walls. They are also one of the very rare animals that can fully metabolize the poison; other animals that feed from the vines are toxic to humans as well, along with their meat, milk and eggs. Goats provide most of the milk, cheese, and (rarely) meat for most settlements.
The brightly-colored berries, meanwhile, are less toxic than the leaves and stems. They can een be eaten by settlers, if all other food sources fail... but only if they are skinned, de-seeded, boiled, mashed and boiled again. The process can take hours, and the mash that results is unpleasant to the tongue. A great deal of sweetener is required to make it palatable.
Sadly, not many forms of sweetness remain. The main source comes from a syrup derived from mashed beets; it is a rare village that does not grow at least a small field of beets, and up to half of them are allowed to go to seed, to ensure that they do not run out. No one knows where the first seeds came from, as they have been passed down through generations; some argue that there must have been a store of them once, but no one who lives knows the truth anymore.
Amongst birds, there are also a few who can eat the berries and fully break down the toxins. Geese are the primary example. While the geese are often too ornery and destructive to keep domestically, they can at least be coaxed into small ponds, so long as the water can be kept clear of most of the vines. They provide good eggs, so long as one is careful when harvesting them, although the meat is gamey and unpleasant.
Fish, for reasons unknown, are also often difficult to find. Some theorize that the roots of the vine grow into the waters, and that they are also toxic; others say that it is because the leaves and berries drop there as well. But so far there hasn't been much opportunity to prove their theories. Survival is a higher consideration.
Very few places are capable of trying to grow more labor-intensive crops. The sunflower farms further inland are a prime example. Through trial and error and long hours of labor, they were able to come up with a barrier capable of keeping most larger insects from flying outside of the settlement, including bees. The hives are carefully kept and fed on the sunflower fields, which are kept within the same barrier. The blooms never grow as large as they would without the barrier, which blocks out at least some portion of the sun, but they grow well enough to provide the bees with nectar and the settlement with honey. However, if even a portion of the barrier is damaged, the entire crop of honey must be considered tainted and discarded; the nectar of the flower is the most toxic part of the vine, and even a small amount will stain the honey purple and leave it inedible to humans. It's no surprise, then, that honey is one of the rarest and most expensive commodities between settlements, with sunflower seeds and sunflower oil a close second.
No one knows how many species the vines have killed off, either with its toxins or by crowding out their homes. The number, some say, is impossible to quantify. But there is enough to keep an ecosystem of sorts alive, and the humans do not dare throw it out of balance. They have no choice but to coexist with the vines and use them as tools the best they can; they grow back quickly when burnt and release toxic smoke, and cannot be dug out. They use blocks of earth as building materials, baked for days to ensure the roots are dead, though they are often still intact enough to keep the earth together, and create rope and thread from the vines' fibers in a long process that involves soaking the vines, removing the central fibers, and spinning them. It is not a difficult process, but there is little left to weave fabric with. The vines can be used to reinforce structures, although they have to also be baked to ensure they are thoroughly dead.
Many people would choose to destroy the vine if they could - to burn it all and damn the consequences. But a fire or poison strong enough to kill it would kill much more. Even if they could succeed... well, no one knows what would be left behind in such a world. So much has grown dependent on the vines, and so much more has died out that could have taken its place. No one knows if a world without them now could survive.
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But of course it can't eat either goats or geese, that bit is hilarious.
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