Leaks in the Noose | Refresh

Mass Cure | S 1 ♦ M 5

Inka eased down into a squat, studying the tropical mess of brush before him. Generations of dark gold lurra shoots dominated, bursting out of the ground everywhere in dense clusters, some reaching up to nearly ten times his height. The towering corpse forms of their elderly or deceased contrasted the scene, the tube like stalks being almost white and devoid of leaves, while their much smaller and closely bunched youths held a sharp gold with ribbons of dark brown tinging the edges of their shorter and jagged crystalline-style forms.

Without the lurra's three dominant and unique, flashy variations, Inka found the scene to be dull, almost uncomfortably mundane without their flavorings. But he was sure it hadn't been like this before the lurra was introduced to the area—and he was quite sure the lurra was a recent addition. It's body and leaves were not only bitter but toxic as well to prevent nearly any form of predator from enjoying its bounty, so other plants had likely been increasingly targeted as it overwhelmed the region. It was draining the environment's beauty.

His hand flashed about over a sheet of white parchment, stretched over the thin rectangular box in his lap, as he detailed the scene—taking special care not to exaggerate the lurras. He pressed the edge of the silver and black metallic tube in his fingers against the edge of his dark-wood box, squeezing its jelly-like bladder with his other hand to expel the remaining yellow, then moving the tip of the contraption into one of the seven round, diagonal openings along the right side of his box. He slowly released his grip on the bladder, snapped the head of his device back into his place as he withdrew it, then his hand resumed its blurry dance about the page, now trailing shades of red; the entire transition taking place well within the span of a yawn. The mature, dark gold Lurra shoots he was depicting were now being given amber fan leaves bursting out from their peaks.

Countless other plants tried to present themselves amongst the masses of Lurra shoots, yet the only one that stood out with any authority was the pale green whispers creeping all about the lurras, along with the occasional chunky tan trunk of a jint tree. Still, he strived to capture everything, especially the nearly unseen plants, as his hand dashed in and out of his selection of dyes to stain the sheets of parchment before him.

"It should be fine."

"Be sure."

Inka could just hear the whispered exchange some distance behind him. He set his rati quill into a specialized slot in the side of his box then laid his index and middle fingers on the resonator beneath his left palm; its grey fungal form sunk into his nerves, hugging his wrist and ever so slightly pulsing.

Quiet your batch... There's several groups less than two reaches before you... It looks to be a minor clan.

He released his wrist. The faint sounds of movement he was hearing then stopped after a few moments. A series of whispers began then quickly faded back into the light sounds of careful movement.

Inka returned his attention to the recreation on his lap. Drawing out his quill, he hurried his hand about the parchment with a dark ink, now ignoring minute details and shading in favor of an outline of all remaining concernable elements in the scene before him. Once finished, he flipped the rectangle of parchment and started jotting notes using almost impossibly small characters. He grabbed a complete red lurra leaf off the forest floor beside him, rubbed his index finger against a small, concave space in the bottom of his box, then he massaged the resin now on his finger around the leaf before sticking it against the parchment. He grabbed another similar leaf and split it in half; throwing one part into his mouth between his gums and teeth, and vigorously rubbing the other against the back of his left hand. Inka then looked to be frozen for a moment, his eyes staring forward until, slowly, they lowered down to look at the back of his hand. He removed the leaf from his mouth then began jotting notes beneath the leaf that he'd pasted against his sheet of parchment. When he was finished, he repeated the process with a slug vine; slicing away two round samples with the nail on his index finger.