Logs:SITREP: The Sign of an Ambuscade

SITREP: The Sign of an Ambuscade
Dramatis Personae Horus, Scott
In Absentia Kyinha	2024-12-09 I will make you map. And find reinforcements.
Location <XAV> Gardens - Xs Grounds
From indoor gardens to outdoor, though without the protective greenhouse glass the back gardens do not last all year round. Still, the gardens out here are well-tended and well-worth spending time in, as well. The paths wending through the beds of flowers and herbs and vegetables spread out through the school's back grounds, tended by students as a credit class. Benches offer seating and a small pond is home to koi and turtles, as well as a few frogs. At the far back edges of the garden, a droning buzzing marks a few stacked white boxes as beehives. Winter has been settling in fast, and like much of the green space around Xavier's grounds the garden has been sparse and austere of late: trees losing their leaves faster and faster, the flowerbeds dormant, only the hardiest plants still evergreen against the changing weather. Usually once it gets colder, Scott gives up his gardening time to coach the hockey teams, but he's made an exception today, is kneeling at the side of one of the languishing herb and vegetable patches with a trowel in one hand, pruning shears in the other, and a wheelbarrow of uprooted plants -- both wanted and weeded, giving off an unpleasantly gamey smell -- parked at his side. He's dressed warm against the chill -- dark blue parka, dark blue beanie -- and protective against his unpleasant work -- heavy-duty gardening gloves and sleeves and apron, knee pads, disposable dust mask suspiciously stained where he's pinched it over his nose. Most of the vegetables have not put up much of a fight thus far, though even the leeks and parsnips that look perfectly serviceable have been consigned to the wheelbarrow, probably Scott feels it would be better to be safe than sorry. The herbs are another story; currently Scott hacking with his trowel at a rosemary plant that just won't go down, its branches whipping and clasping at Scott's wrist and arms, the tiny needle-like leaves catching (though thankfully not ripping) at the leather like barbed wire. Scott is trying to be patient -- he's telling the rosemary, in an exasperatedly conciliatory tone, "Let's be reasonable." There's a flap of enormous wings, a rush of air, a keen raptor screech. The hostile plant -- and maybe a little bit Scott, too, in the sudden spray of soil -- is getting divebombed quite aggressively, Horus's immense talons digging hard into the already-disturbed earth. In addition to his tablet holster the bird is wearing an olive drab combat helmet, fastened secure under his chin. No quarter, the rich voice from his tablet is saying. His beak stabs hard at the plant's roots just beside Scott's trowel, talons digging into the ground. "Huh --" this, more than anything else, is a sharp intake of breath, as Scott leans sharply back from the plant; under his beanie he is wearing a visor instead of glasses, maybe this is just because it's that much harder to remove. Probably the break he's taking in the wake of being divebombed was unplanned, but he is taking advantage, trying to plant his stance a little more firmly before reattacking the rosemary. As he's rolling his shoulders, "Hi, Horus," he says, his voice very level for someone who has been going mano a planto for the past while. "I'm trying to let cooler heads prevail, actually. Nice hat." Appropriate hat very appropriate this is war. Horus's words are a little bit choppier than usual, because he is bouncing back where he stands as the rosemary reaches to grab at his legs. He claws back at it with a small scratchy squawk. Have you seen the woods evil evil evil plants evil everywhere plants. No no no cool heads need bigger guns. "War, huh. -- Christ, has it spread to the woods too?" Scott lets out a quiet, huffy sigh, rustly-echoey through the respirator, but first things first. He's going at the rosemary again. "I think shooting the plants might do more harm than good. Hopefully Hank will figure something out soon, I'm not much of a stopgap." He leans forward and snips at two tendrils of rosemary that have reared up to lash out at Horus, scoops them writhing and coiling into the wheelbarrow with his trowel. "You know anybody with a green thumb? Or --" he's tilting his head back contemplatively, regarding Horus with the approximately zero percent of his face currently visible. "A black one? Got a Rolodex in there?" Maybe he's trying to tilt his chin at the tablet, but when he's also wrestling a rosemary plant it does not really register as any kind of gesture. War war war, agrees Horus's tablet, even as he squawks again and drops his stylus. He snatches it rapidly back from the writhing tendrils, his feathers floofing out and then pressing back down once Scott relieves him of the most imminent danger. Woods yes many many woods evil woods plants. Big danger big big big danger hurt birds sick birds monster plants attack some birds. After a pause he is shaking his feathers out and adding: Bad to eat also. I know every every everyone. Sociable bird. I think we have people here here here who can help just need plan war plan attack plan. He is, tentatively, hopping just a little bit closer so that he can eye the rosemary severely, and then volunteer the only part of the plan he has yet come up with: Maybe you can blast. The rosemary plant has wrapped its branches tight around one of Scott's arms, the leather of his protective sleeve buckling around its needles; he's sawing at it somewhat ineffectually with the pruners. "I think blasting the woods indiscriminately might do more harm than good, too," he says finally, "but thanks for the tip. I'll try to get some people to help me out with the woods, I didn't know it'd spread that far already." He extricates his pruning hand to offer Horus a polite little salute with the shears. "And I'll get right on that attack plan, sir." Horus's chest puffs out, feathers all ruffling outward with his small huff-huff of breath. Fine-fine-fine, his tablet is saying, fine-fine I was going to ask Kyinha also but his fire out out out what to do. Ugly evil trees killed one flicker I like the flickers. He's kind of wilting back to his normal size, taptaptapping at the side of his tablet with his stylus for a moment. It's far very far I see very far I will make you map. And find reinforcements. With another heavy flap of wings, he is off -- -- but circling back not too long after to swoop down, set the helmet atop the beanie on Scott's head. To help help help with battle plans -- is kind of half audible, half fading into the distance as he flutters away.