"What's the knock-on effect of this likely to be?"
Giant Wooden Doctor Isley shakes her head as she pointedly avoids looking away from the leaving column of fungusfolk.
Not trusting them to
all leave, Pammie? Good logic, but i don't think they'll have the capacity for trickery at this level...
"I don't know enough about thaumaturgy to tell. A huge focus of Green magic just got destroyed. Even if Euanthe can manage to… Partially restore it, the bonds between the world's plants and this place just got… Totalled. Plants will grow more slowly -if.. they grow at all- and fruit yields will be way down."
"I'm worried that no one will be farming at all."
Just as I figured. But now you have something to
do, I guess?
"That might have been the point. If the Green wasn't… If it was healthy, we could help out. Do what Swamp Thing did to Gotham. Or Euanthe could talk to the other dryads into visiting places and helping out. Now, we can't do that." She shudders a little. "If they could even manage to work through the Anti-Life."
"What did it feel like to you?"
What makes you think she's immune
here, OL? It's affecting
all parts of Earth and its thaumosphere...
"You mean, 'what does it feel like to me'."
"Oh."
Yeah. Optimistic of you, but really, a little rude...
"It's like I'm still Poison Ivy, but I'm not crazy enough to just go with it."
I float closer, and lay my right gauntlet on the middle phalanges of her right index finger.
Or you're being one of the
nicer versions of Poison Ivy. And yes, they exist. Not
every version of her is a human-hating eco-terrorist... (Though goodness, that's a lot.)
"Then you're not Poison Ivy, because that was her defining trait. You've managed the Brazil-Accalacan situation really well, you and Euanthe, and what you're feeling now that you weren't yesterday is the result of the Anti-Life."
She nods, her left hand coming around to put the tip of her left index finger on top of my right hand.
Heh, head-pats from a giant woman: the ultimate reward.
"Thanks."
"So I've been wondering: are you and Euanthe romantically involved?"

What? ...But given how it looks, yes, I
could see it.
Her hands are withdrawn.
"Uh-aah, what?"
Probably a good thing this form can't
blush, huh?
"Because it would be something to look forward to? Because that would mean that you're a prospective violet power ring user? Because it would be a sign of your psychological normalisation?"
"I don't think-. I haven't really… Thought about her that way. I don't think she thinks about humans that way."
And you haven't
felt like thinking about this, then?
"She's open to the idea."
She looks at me askance. "Should you be using your power like that? Isn't that unethical?"
Honestly, setting up two friends? Sounds like a decent use of it.
"I didn't use my power. She came onto me. In a way that suggested that she didn't exactly get human interactions but thought it might be something I'd enjoy."
"And… Did..?"
To be fair, she's
probably thinking 'Teenage guy, hot plant chick,
nature ensues...'
"No. But you've spent a lot more time with her than I have, and you're more on her wavelength."
The last of the fungoids tramp through the pale grey hole in space.
So, time for OL to keep up
his side of the bargain.
"If you think she needs advice on the meatspace aspect, I'm happy to wingman for you."
"So.. I'll have something to not go crazy for."
Well, that is a
nice bonus.
"Yes indeed. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to pacify the fungoids and you-."
"I need to rebuild the Green with Euanthe. I.. guess that works for a date?"
Well, the green in whatever part of South America this is, assuming it's not just a representation of their base in the former Brasilia.
"Given how long you've been living together, I'd say that you should be a bit direct about things. If that's what you want. Excuse me."
I fly through the portal, and…
Just don't go full Commander 'Memetic Horndog' Shepard and go '
We'll bang, okay?'
Huh.
It's a bit like a snowstorm. Or some sort of duststorm or smog. Light-coloured… Fog? Mist, or… Dust? Is everywhere, but unlike back in the ruins of the Green there's strong light coming from… Somewhere. Yes, diffuse snow is what it reminds me of. The fungoids I was following have… More or less vanished. I can see a few as they walk away but none of them are paying me any attention.
So, not the giant
boneyard of the Rot.
Anything would be better than that, after all.
What little of the of the landscape I can see appears to be made of giant conks and fruiting bodies. Colours… Are accurate, when I'm close enough that whatever is filling the air doesn't obscure it. I'm not going to prod things, not when things are tense and not with power armour. I'm not… Sure what they're growing on. There's a definite floor here, but unlike in the Green where it was soft earth I'm… Not really sure what it's made of.
Probably some kind of
mycelium pad overlaying the rest. Kind of like the Zerg's
Creep.
Okay, may as well get started. I unfocus my mind slightly… Ah, yes, there it is. The pale of the Anti-Life, cast over an otherwise functioning area of the Earth's thaumosphere. It's not the same as… Erebos, and it's definitely not the same as the attitude of Melinoë and family. They accept that things naturally end where I cling to them and demand that they last forever. Anti-Life is magical nihilism; rushing towards annihilation and nothingness.
I don't know how fungus thinks, but I can't immediately come up with a reason why it would be all that different from plants. Other than the fact that they make less use of animals as a vector.
As a nutrient source,
sure. Transmitting spores via animals? Not so much. Animal biology
is kind of resistant to that sort of thing...
"Gary, do any of you have friends?"
"Some."
Oh, where's he going with
this angle?
"With who?"
"Odd wizards and druids. Sometimes we go into the world and meet people. It's confusing."
Hence the anthropomorphic form they use. Bit harder to hold a conversation with a giant mushroom cap...
"But there aren't any fungus dryads."
"No."
Heh. Now I'm picturing any number of Generic Fantasy Setting sexual dimorphism memes.

You know, the 'sexy female monster' trope...
So the fungoids are at least a degree less human-like than Euanthe, who struggles to understand humans at the best of times and certainly doesn't value human stuff in the way that humans do.
On the other hand, I've touched the Ophidian's mind.
And they still have
desires, alien as they are.
I draw away from myself and surround myself with the Grey. It feels like dying, but that's because they're part of the system that breaks human remains down. They're not agents of primal annihilation, not in their inner selves.
I think for a moment of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, but honestly the underlying nature of the Grey is so… Simple, that I think that MRS GREN is more appropriate.
Before anyone asks:
MRS GREN. Simply put,
Movement;
Respiration;
Sensation;
Growth;
Reproduction;
Excretion;
Nutrition. The fundamentals of organic life, really.
But it's not just the characteristics of life in themselves that will act as a fix, and I can feel the fungoid's habits of movement in the same thought as I feel a ring of fungal spore pods advancing across a lawn. Or the alien way fungi sense the world around them by dampness and something like a sense of smell. No, it's the idea that those things are sufficient. That acting in accordance with those impulses are satisfactory in themselves, that living is sufficient.
So, he's effectively 'rebooting' their instinctual needs to pre-Anti-Life defaults?
I feel the Anti-Life try to tie itself around particular impulses in opposition to my efforts, but it seems to have lost its 'in'.
"A life well-lived is its own reward."
And if the
Dark Side are aware of all this, since I assume they'd be
watching if they did this on purpose, someone is now swearing up a storm.
Pulling back in to my own consciousness, it seems… The Anti-Life is still all around, but it's less tied to the spiritual energies of they Grey. It's influencing them less.
Good.
Now it's time to call in Dr. Balewa.
And maybe he can install some safeguards against further outside manipulation. When he has a spare moment, anyway.