Scene: "Sprouts of Control"
Location: A quiet clearing near the camp, just after dusk
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The air was calm. A few crickets chirped from the distant underbrush, and soft lantern-glow drifted from the camp far behind them. In a quiet clearing wrapped by vines and woven branches, Fern stood still, her wooden druid staff pressed gently to the earth.
Oliver sat cross-legged across from her, hoodie sleeves rolled up, both palms open.
> "Vita isn't forced," Fern said softly. "It's breathed. Felt. Aligned. You can't rush nature into growing. Just let it respond."
She slowly raised her staff, and from the dirt beneath her, a soft glow of green light bloomed, swirling around her hands in dancing threads. Glimmering specs of light like tiny seeds floated upward from her staff tip. With a slow exhale, she lowered it, and a collection of plants sprung from the soil—ferns, moss, a cluster of bright-veined leaves, spiraling out in perfect rhythm.
Oliver watched intently. He gave a small nod.
> "Alright… breathe with it. Not command it."
He focused, drawing in a deep breath.
From his chest, a faint blue glow shimmered—Oliver's Vita. Unlike Fern's calm natural light, his had a more fluid texture, almost like waves trying to imitate roots. He pointed one hand toward the soil and slowly pressed his palm down.
A few sparks of blue energy dripped into the earth, and—small blades of grass sprouted up, short, uneven, but living.
> "Hah—there," Oliver said, exhaling. "Didn't blow anything up this time."
Fern crouched beside the grass patch and tilted her head.
> "They're reaching… but they're afraid."
> "Afraid?"
> "Your Vita isn't wrong. It's just… hesitant. It doesn't trust the earth yet."
Oliver sat back, frowning slightly.
> "I'm used to controlling. Not listening."
Fern placed a hand lightly on the grass he made, her fingertips glowing green.
> "Then listen more. Let it tell you where to grow. What to shape. Vita isn't a tool—it's a conversation."
Oliver nodded again, quieter now.
He placed his hands gently to the ground. His blue energy reappeared, this time more intentional, flowing through his arms like a calm tide. The grass around him grew again, this time wider, a few budding leaves peeking out.
Not dramatic—but alive.
Fern gave the smallest of smiles.
> "Better."
Oliver looked down at his work and gave a grin.
> "Still can't beat your mini-forest."
Fern tapped her staff gently to the earth.
> "That's not the point."
She stood and offered him a hand.
> "Control is nice. But harmony… is stronger."
Oliver took her hand, standing up beside her, eyes glancing over the glowing sprouts.
> "Thanks, Fern."
> "Don't thank me," Fern said softly. "Thank the earth."
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