Instead he began to examine the plants around them, taking samples from some as they passed by. The thing that looked like a hanging vine of blood was interesting - it resembled his own threads, until he cut it open and out came red tinted chlorophyll. It was strange, from what he knew these plants should not survive without the true green hue, but somehow they not only survived but thrived. It must have something to do with the lingering magics of whatever entity had twisted this forest into what it was now.

Then Nevin paused, his attention ripped to one side by something that was decidedly out of place. In the background of his mind, his magic was singing a low, ominous dirge - a warning. And he thought he could see the source of that warning call. It looked like just another of the hanging blood vines, and they had passed several already. But what had caught Nevin’s gaze was the way it had twitched as a bird flew beneath it - almost like a snake thinking of grabbing prey. It had paused, almost seeming to realize he was looking at it, and now hung quiescent from a branch. But looking closely at it as Nevin felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, he could see that the other end of the ‘vine’ was actually wrapped around the branch - not growing from it like it should.

“Scarlet…” The word fell from his lips in disbelief and anger.

Stare caught the thing in her gaze and her mind worked to connect the word he whispered with the image in her mind, coupled with the brief readings that she had done on the flora of the world. Brow furrowing she readied herself for combat, just in case, for it had made a threatening movement towards the bird.

Answers? she asked.

There was a short, but still silence. Then - It is not of my knowledge.

That made her immediately tense. Vitruvion was a being as wise as his years and more. He had access to a vast database of knowledge of sciences and theories, namely his father Ansaldo. Also his library was large and he had read every book he could get his hands on. Knowledge to him was an essential part of existing, he thrived and thirsted for it, and had only grown more powerful ever since she had come his life. Anything he did not know of was either so new that nothing had been written, rumoured or thought about it yet, or it was from a different realm altogether.

“Fuck …” she whispered, “Ansaldo’s tiny balls.” And she glanced to her friend. “Nevin, whatever that is … it is not a natural plant.”

If it attacks, try fire. Plants are usually weak against fire.

I presume you can bring me back if I die? she asked rather ironically, fumbling for her spark rocks at her pocket.

Vitruvion looked oddly for a moment, his eyes narrowing and breath pulling in fast. He straightened and shut his sight off from her view. Just get on with it, was his dry, strange reply.